Biscuits with a Side of Betrayal
by Warviben
Summary: Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade. Contains a relationship between two male characters.
1. Chapter 1

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

**Note:** This fic is very heavy on dialogue. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but it is what it is, and it's kind of necessary for the story line. I wanted to post the entire fic in one (long) shot, because I'm lazy, but ff wouldn't let me upload it all at once, so I dutifully broke it down into somewhat logical chapters and will try to post a chapter a day, Monday through Friday.

Chapter One

"We have all had a difficult and trying time these last few months," Headmistress Minerva McGonagall told those assembled in the Great Hall at this, Hogwarts' first welcome feast since the defeat of the Dark Lord. Hogwarts had been rebuilt and polished and cleaned until it shown more brightly than it had in years.

"But we are here, and we are alive," she continued, her voice strong. "We will continue to mourn those we have lost, and we will remember to be thankful for those who remain. Allowances will be made for the lack of a proper curriculum last year, but we have no wish to hold you back, and it is our desire that you end this school year in the place you would have been had there been no interruption in your education. I urge all of you not to hesitate if you are having difficulty, in any class, for any reason, to speak with the teacher involved, or your head of house, or with me. We are all of us dedicated to seeing you succeed."

The Headmistress paused to sip from the goblet resting on the podium from behind which she spoke.

"As you are aware, we have several students who should have completed their seventh year last year and taken their NEWT's but have not, for one reason or another, and they have returned."

Harry, sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table, felt a hundred pairs of eyes seek him out. Sitting next to him, Ginny bumped her shoulder against his. He smiled at her, grateful she was still speaking with him after he'd broken up with her a month ago. She seemed to have moved on quickly – she'd been spending a lot of time with a boy from Ravenclaw recently.

"These 'eighth years' will have different rules from the rest of you, as befitting their status as the adults that they are. Seventh years, you will likely see them in your classes, and they may be receiving private tutoring in areas where they need but little instruction to take their NEWT's. The Ministry has made special provision in allowing these students to take their NEWT's when they are ready for them, as opposed to making them wait until next spring. Some of our eighth years will likely test out over the next few months.

"Well, that is enough for our first evening, I think. I know that your bellies are full and you are getting sleepier by the minute. I would ask our eighth years to remain behind, and I bid the rest of you good night."

The deafening cacophony of benches pushing back, and hundreds of students getting to their feet and talking at once followed their dismissal. Ginny bid Harry good night, and Harry remained sitting where he was until the majority of the crowd filtered out of the Great Hall. Surveying the Head Table, Harry noticed only four teachers rising: Professors Flitwick and Sprout; Professor Bill Weasley, new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and newly-appointed Head of Gryffindor House; and Dorian Edgerstone, McGonagall's replacement for Transfiguration and now Slytherin's Head of House. The Heads of Hogwarts' four houses trooped out after their students, their evening not yet concluded.

The rest of the teachers remained sitting at the Head Table, waiting for Minerva to begin this meeting with Hogwarts' unprecedented class of eighth years. These teachers included Rubeus Hagrid, who had waved madly at Harry earlier, and surprisingly, Severus Snape, who, while he lay recuperating from Nagini's bite, had been pardoned by the Wizengamot for any crimes he may have committed in the past as payment for his assistance in ridding the world of Voldemort. He'd been talked into returning to teach Potions by a diabolically persistent Minerva McGonagall, but had declined additional duties as Head of House.

Harry turned his attention to his fellow eighth years. There were eight of them, besides himself: Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones and Morag MacDougal from Hufflepuff, Anthony Goldstein and Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw, lone Slytherin Draco Malfoy, and fellow Gryffindors Dean Thomas and Hermione Granger. Harry was already missing Ron's presence here. During the summer, George had asked Ron for help in the store, and Ron had decided that he liked working more than he liked learning, and even Hermione couldn't convince him to return to school, not when he had a steady income and his evenings were free to spend how he liked them, rather than with his nose buried in a book. Hermione was here only for a few weeks of revision before she took her NEWT's, so Harry would likely be without her before long. Harry planned on taking his Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT at the same time Hermione took hers, but he was quite sure he'd need much longer than that in Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms.

"Thank you all for staying," McGonagall began when the younger students had all left the room. "I will try to keep this brief. Why don't you all gather round here," she invited, gesturing the end of the Hufflepuff table. "That way I won't have to shout."

She waited patiently while students moved and rearranged themselves on both sides of the table. Harry found himself sitting directly across from Draco Malfoy. He smiled tentatively at the thin blonde, but Draco only looked at him briefly and turned away.

"All right. Thank you. We wanted to go over with you the rules you will be expected to follow this year. As you know, we have opened an unused area of the castle for you eighth years. We recognize that you have all reached majority, and it is unfair of us to treat you as though you are children. Especially given what some of you have been through during the past few months. However, this is first and foremost a school, where you will interact with younger students, students who very likely will look up to you as role models, so there are certain standards of conduct which we will expect you to follow."

She looked around at all of them, making eye contact with each student before moving on, making sure she had their attention and that they were all taking this seriously. When she'd satisfied herself, she continued. "The area that we have set aside for your living quarters is in a part of the castle not used for any other purpose, so you will have relative solitude to complete your studies. You will each of you have your own room with en suite, furnished with a bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a book shelf. You are welcome to make these rooms your own in whatever way you see fit. You will all share a common room.

"You may invite younger students into your common room, but under no circumstances are younger students to be in your bedrooms. I am going to place my trust in each of you that you can co-exist in these close quarters in a way that will not bring shame on any of us," Minerva said primly. "I realize that you are young adults, but I would ask you to remember that you are still in school as you conduct yourselves. I trust you all understand?"

She looked around at them all again. Most students nodded, and some murmured, "Yes, ma'am."

"All right. Enough said about that. I have your timetables here." She gestured to Professor Snape, who rose and shuffled forward, still not completely healed, with a stack of parchments in his hand. Wordlessly, he matched the schedules in his hand with the students seated at the table. Harry looked up at Snape when he handed him his timetable, and Snape's dark eyes looked back at him with no expression, which was a huge improvement over the malice Harry always used to see on the man's face.

"You have been placed with seventh years in the classes that you indicated you needed the most assistance with. As you know, the Ministry is allowing you to take whatever NEWT's you feel ready for, whenever you are ready for them. Therefore, if you feel that you need only a bit of a refresher in a particular subject to make you ready, please speak with the instructor for that class. We are all dedicated to doing whatever we can to assist you in whatever way you need. We do not wish to rush you out of here, but neither do we want to hold you back if you are ready to leave. When you _are _ready, come to me, and I will contact the Ministry on your behalf."

Harry looked down at his timetable while the Headmistress droned on. He'd been placed with the seventh year Gryffindors in Double Charms on Monday morning, Double Transfiguration on Wednesday morning, and Double Potions on Friday afternoon. His schedule contained massive chunks of time which could be devoted to homework and studying. He felt ready to take his Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT now and intended to speak with Minerva after he'd had some time to get settled in about setting that up.

"You will not be allowed to play on house teams, be it Gobstones or Quidditch. It is simply unfair to allow players with your increased skills and experience to compete against the younger players. That being said, if any of you wish to lend those skills and experience to your house teams in a coaching capacity, that will be encouraged and appreciated.

"We are nearly finished here," the Headmistress assured them as several of the students began to fidget and Mandy yawned discretely behind her hand. "You are to be given a significant amount of freedom in your movements, in recognition of the fact that you are young adults. What does this mean? It means that while you are certainly welcome to do so, you are not required to take every meal in the Great Hall. Two house elves have been tasked with assisting you with whatever you may require should you wish to eat undisturbed in your rooms. You need only ask, and they will provide you with whatever is being served at the time in the Great Hall. Please do not take advantage of their generosity by requesting specialized meals.

"You are allowed to venture into Hogsmeade whenever you like. We ask only that you advise a member of the staff that you are going and approximately when you expect to return. You also have no curfew, although we do ask that you not abuse that privilege in such a way as to encourage the younger students to emulate your behavior.

"I believe that is all for now. Does anyone have any questions?"

Typically, Hermione was the first to speak. "Will we have unlimited access to the Restricted Section, Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. Madam Pince has been instructed to allow you access to whatever materials you need. Anyone else?"

No one else spoke. Everyone looked ready to find their beds and fall into them.

"All right then. I will escort you to your new homes. If questions arise as time goes by, if you find yourselves with a problem which you require assistance resolving, or if you simply need to talk, please come and see me. I am here for you. I am so happy that you have decided to return, and we will do everything in our power to see that you are happy here while you finish your education. Come. Your beds await."

They all stood and followed the new Headmistress across the hall. Before going through the doors, Harry looked back and locked eyes with Professor Snape again. Again, he could not read his professor's expression, but Harry felt as though they had unfinished business, and he promised himself to go and talk to the man at his earliest opportunity.

The parade of students followed their Headmistress up two flights of stairs and twisted their way along an unfamiliar corridor. They finally arrived in a large rectangular room. It had no windows, but each of its four walls contained multiple doors – Harry counted nine, one for each of them. The middle of the room was dominated by a pile of trunks and owl cages and other various and sundry items that the eighth years had brought to Hogwarts on the train. The walls not taken up by doors were lined with desks, and various items of comfortable looking furniture – sofas, chairs, and poufs – were spread throughout the room.

Once all of the students had made their way into the large room, McGonagall turned to face them again. "Please take a few moments to look through all of the rooms. We will be holding a lottery of sorts to determine room assignments. I have here," she shook a small bag that had been left on one of the chairs, "all of your names. I will pick one out, and that student will have first choice of rooms. I will give you ten minutes."

Harry and Hermione looked through all of the rooms together, though Harry really didn't care where he slept. Having his own room would be heaven, and as long as it was at least a little bigger than his cupboard at the Dursleys, he could live with it. Even if it was exactly the size of his cupboard, it would be better accommodation than some of the places he'd slept in the last few months. The rooms were all very similar, roughly all the same size, with nearly identical furniture in them. Each of the rooms contained windows, charmed, Harry suspected, though he couldn't tell because it was dark outside. Each of the rooms contained a small connected bathroom with a toilet, sink and shower. Any one of them would be comfortable.

When everyone had looked to their heart's content, they re-formed before their Headmistress. "Ready?" At their nods, she reached into the bag, shook it around dramatically, and pulled out a scrap of parchment. "Harry Potter," she read, smiling at Harry. The Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs boo-ed good-naturedly, and Dean slapped Harry on the back.

"I'll take that corner room," Harry said, pointing. "It has the most windows."

"You may take your things in, then," Minerva instructed. She flicked her wand at his door, inscribing 'H. Potter' into the dark wood. Harry located his trunk while Minerva fished around in the bag again. "Susan Bones," he heard as he dragged his trunk into his new quarters.

Harry closed the door and cast locking and privacy spells on it. He let his trunk thunk down at the end of the bed. He'd worry about emptying it and stowing everything away tomorrow. He was tired now, too tired to even fetch his pajamas out of his trunk, and he stripped off everything but his boxers. He visited the loo, brushed his teeth, and then slid into the clean, fresh-smelling sheets. He was asleep within minutes.

Harry's first week of classes had come to a close with the bell at the end of Double Potions. He purposely put his book and materials away slowly, shooing Hermione away when it looked like she would stay. There was something he needed to do, and he needed to do it alone.

Snape moved slowly to the blackboard and began to erase the instructions he'd magicked up there at the beginning of class. He was very aware that Potter was lingering, and it was evident that the boy was waiting for the last of his fellow students to leave before doing whatever it was he planned to do. Snape thought he had a pretty good idea what that was.

As soon as the door had closed behind Hermione, Harry spoke up, "May I have a moment of your time, sir?"

"I am here and you are here, Potter," said Snape curtly. "What is it that you need?"

"I didn't really need anything," Harry said softly. "I just wanted to say a couple of things. First, I wanted to apologize. And then I wanted to say thank you."

"Both sentiments are appreciated, but neither are necessary," Snape said, moving behind his desk to gather the summer homework the seventh years had turned in.

"Please, sir," Harry said urgently. "I'd really like to say this. Even if you don't want to hear it." When Snape didn't protest further, Harry continued, "Thank you for all of the times that you saved my life, especially those times when I had no idea that you were on my side and thought you hated me. Thank you for bringing me the Sword of Gryffindor when I needed it most, and for giving me your memories so that I could finally understand what I needed to do. And I want you to know how sorry I am that I made things so much more difficult than they already were. If I'd trusted the Headmaster more, I would have taken him at his word and trusted you as well. But I was young and stupid, and I let my emotions control me. So I'm sorry about everything that I did and said that made your life harder. And I'm really, really sorry that I didn't come back for you in the Shrieking Shack. I thought . . . I thought you were dead."

"Finished?" Snape asked when it appeared that Harry had gotten it all out there.

Harry nodded. "Thank you for listening to me." He certainly hadn't expected Snape to be grateful for his sentiments, nor did he think the man would offer up any apologies of his own. "I'll let you get on with your day."

Harry began to walk toward the door, but stopped when he heard Snape say, "Potter." He turned around and faced his teacher.

"You were supposed to hate me," Snape offered. "I encouraged it. And saving your precious hide was part of my penance. And finally, you had more pressing items on your agenda that day, and I do not begrudge your leaving me in the Shrieking Shack. I was . . . ready to die. I had accepted that my fate likely included death at Voldemort's hands."

Harry accepted this in silence, then said, "I'm glad that you didn't die, sir. I'm glad that I have the chance to make things up to you."

"You can 'make things up to me', Mr. Potter, by applying yourself to Potions and learning as much as you can in the time we have allotted to us."

"And I intend to do that," Harry assured him. "Professor, would you . . ." Harry hesitated, sure that Snape would shoot down his request. He figured he didn't have anything to lose, so he pressed ahead. "Would you consider . . . maybe we could . . . I know hardly anything about my mother. You knew her in school. I wondered if you might be willing to . . . anything you might be willing to share with me, I would sincerely appreciate."

Snape stared down at him for many moments. He found he _wanted_ to tell Potter about Lily, and this surprised him, because even thinking about her was usually so painful. But here was her son, her son who knew so very little about the wonderful woman that had given him life, twice, and he could help. How could he refuse?

"You may come to my office Tuesday evening," he said. "Seven o'clock. I will tell you what I can remember."

Harry's smile lit up the gloomy dungeon classroom. "Thank you, sir! I can't tell you how much I appreciate this!"

"Shoo, Potter," Snape said. "Go find your cohorts and get to dinner."

Harry smiled again, piped out a quick "yes, sir," and left while he was still ahead.

Tuesday night couldn't arrive quickly enough for Harry. Finally, he found himself knocking on Professor Snape's office door and pushing it open at the barked, "Enter!"

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said politely.

"Mr. Potter," Snape nodded his head in response. "You may be seated."

Harry hastened to the chair in front of Snape's desk and sat. He looked expectantly at his teacher, as though he thought the man would immediately start hurling out memories of his mother.

"I have been thinking about my agreement to provide you with memories of your mother," Snape started.

Harry's heart dropped into his stomach. Snape had reconsidered. He'd been so looking forward to this, and now Snape was taking it away from him.

Severus saw Harry's expression fall, and he held up a hand to stop the protest or begging or insults which he was sure must be about to fall from the Gryffindor's mouth. "I did not say I had changed my mind, merely that I had been thinking about it. I would hardly be Slytherin if I gave you what you wanted without some recompense."

Harry wasn't sure what he had that Snape could want, but he wanted stories about his mother very much, and he'd give whatever he had. "What do you want?" he asked, somewhat nervously.

"Information," Snape said.

"Information? About what?"

"About your last year. I will share with you memories of your mother, and you will answer my questions about how you have spent the last year of your life."

Harry thought about that. He could certainly live with that. He hadn't told many people about his adventures over the last several months, but there was nothing that he couldn't share with Snape. But he could bargain as well. "What if I have questions about how _you_ have spent the last year of _your_ life? Will you answer those?"

"Well now we've gone beyond the quid pro quo, have we not? If I give you that as well, what will you give me in return?" Snape didn't really want anything from this boy, other than his version of events concerning the hunt and destruction of horcruxes. He was pleasantly surprised that Potter was attempting to negotiate, though, so he was reluctant to just give him everything he wanted. What was Potter willing to offer in return?

"Well," Harry said, thinking. He was quite sure he'd insult Snape if he offered him Galleons for his information. But he really couldn't fathom what he had that Snape might want. Well, maybe he could. "I could tell you about third year, when Sirius escaped." He remembered how angry Snape had been that night. Surely he'd want to hear the story behind that, assuming Dumbledore hadn't already told him.

Sure enough, Snape's dark eyes took on an anticipatory gleam. He _would _like to hear that story, and many others now that he thought about it. "How about this?" he proposed. "You and I . . . share. Everything is on the table, from the moment you stepped foot in this place."

"Everything?" Harry asked, shifting uncomfortably. "What about . . . personal things? I don't want to have to share that type of information with you."

Snape smirked at him across the desk. "You already have, Potter. Miss Chang? Occlumency? Ringing any bells?"

Harry felt himself blushing, but his kiss with Cho under the mistletoe was probably the least of the embarrassing personal moments he could tell Snape about. "There are some things that will be off limits," Harry said firmly. "I'd imagine you don't want me asking you about who you might have shagged over the years. I'd ask the same courtesy."

Snape snorted, as though disbelieving it possible that Harry _could_ have shagged anyone. But he had a point. "All right," he agreed. "I can live with that. This is obviously going to take some time. Should we perhaps schedule weekly meetings? Tuesday nights?"

"That will work for me," Harry agreed. "So will there be some sort of logic to this? Or will we simply sit here and lob random questions at one another?"

Snape stroked his chin with one finger. Harry watched that one finger, fascinated. "No, we will bring some order to this madness. We will begin with your first year. We will go chronologically."

"I have no objection to that, but how can you expect me to remember events that happened seven years ago?"

"I have a journal," Snape confessed. It was his turn to shift uncomfortably. "That should assist us with placing actions with dates." This journal was actually a very detailed account of Harry's life at Hogwarts. Snape had begun it when the whelp first started school, hoping that he could chronicle the boy's misbehavior, accumulate evidence of his misdeeds, and present it to the Headmaster in argument for expulsion. He'd been so sure that the young Potter would be a carbon copy of his father, and he'd been ready to prove that to anyone who would listen. Even when he realized that Potter could do nothing that would cause the Headmaster to expel him, he'd still continued to watch the boy obsessively. His journal would be of great assistance to them in their current endeavor.

"A journal, huh?" Harry asked, wondering if Snape would ever let him look at this journal. "All right. We'll begin next week. But for tonight, since you'd already agreed to tell me something about my mother, I think you owe me."

Snape nodded in agreement. "When we were eight," Snape began, "your grandmother took Lily and me and Petunia to the local library. Your mother and your aunt already had library cards, and your grandmother helped me to get one as well."

"What was her name?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing that he didn't even know the names of his own mother's parents. "My grandmother?"

"Marilia," Snape said. "Your grandfather was Nicholas, but everyone called him Cole, I believe because _his _father was named Nicholas as well. I, of course, called them Mr. and Mrs. Evans. They were both incredibly kind people. Anyway, we were in the library. Your grandmother was assisting your aunt with finding a resource that she needed for school, and your mother and I were left to our own devices. I followed your mother while she searched for a book. She said that she wanted one that looked as though it had never been taken out of the library before. She did not tell me why. When she found a book that met her criteria, a large and dusty atlas that likely weighed more than she did, we pulled it off the shelf together. She removed a lily that she had picked and a raven feather from the pocket of her skirt and put them into the book. She closed the book, and we both stood on it, pressing the items inside, likely damaging a very old and perhaps valuable volume. We placed the book back on the shelf. She told me that we would come back in ten years and see if the flower and the feather were still there."

Snape paused here, remembering how he'd felt in that moment, when his eight-year old self, who had never had a friend, realized that this wonderful girl actually thought they would still be friends ten years hence. He'd had a large lump in his throat which was difficult for such a young boy to swallow around, and he'd wanted to hug her, or squeeze her hand, or do _something _to show her just how much she meant to him, but he was unaccustomed to displays of affection, either giving or receiving, and he'd merely nodded in agreement at her suggestion. Snape cleared his throat, some remnant of that long-gone lump haunting him now.

"Of course, ten years later, we were both different people." Snape didn't need to explain just how different. "But I spent a lot of happy hours in that library, sometimes with Lily, sometimes by myself, losing myself in the books. It was one of the places that I associated strongly with your mother."

"Did you ever go back?" Harry asked.

"I did. After . . . after she'd been killed. The book was still there, but the lily and the feather were gone. I don't know if she had removed them, or if someone else had found them and disposed of them."

Snape stood and disappeared through the door at the back of his office without saying a word. Harry sat dumbly in the chair, uncertain whether the story had upset Snape so much that he couldn't continue, whether he should get up and leave or wait it out, or just exactly what was going on here. Moments later, Snape came back with a very large book which he placed gently in the middle of his desk. Harry knew immediately what it was.

"You stole the book?" Harry asked quietly.

"One of the least serious of my crimes, wouldn't you agree?"

"I didn't mean it as an accusation," Harry murmured, and he hadn't. He was incredibly moved that Snape had thought so much of the book that he'd actually nicked it from the public library.

Snape opened the book, and Harry looked down at a page wrinkled and smudged with a pale yellow stain. It was obvious from the way the book fell open that it had been opened to this page many, many times. Tentatively, unsure if Snape would object, Harry reached a finger across the tome and touched it to the yellow spot left behind when a little girl had sought to preserve mementos of herself and her best friend. Snape pressed a finger to an indentation in the book, perhaps left behind by the spine of the feather.

Harry blinked, his eyes suddenly heavy with emotion. His mother had touched this book. His mother had pressed a flower into it. She and her childhood friend had stood upon this book together, sealing their friendship within. That that friendship had ripped apart years later took nothing away from what the two eight-year olds had meant to each other at that moment.

Harry withdrew his hand, worried he was going to cry. Snape moved at the same time, and their hands touched, just the merest of brushes, but it sent an electrical shock coursing up Harry's arm. He looked up at Snape, surprised, only to find Snape looking just as surprised as he was. Not wanting to get into what it might mean, not tonight when he was so emotional, he withdrew his hand as though nothing had happened and sat back in his chair.

Snape closed the book and sat back in his chair as well, looking at Harry, his eyes hooded.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said sincerely. "That was . . . just what I needed." Indeed, he felt like his mother was in the room with them, and he wrapped that feeling around him like a blanket straight out of the tumble dryer. Harry stood up. "I'll see you in Potions, sir."

"Until Friday, then," Snape agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Two

"September the first, nineteen ninety-one," Snape said, referring to the journal he had open on his desk. "'Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts,'" he read.

"Is that all it says?" Harry asked, craning his neck to try and get a look at the book, but Snape slammed it shut before he got anywhere near it. "You're sure it doesn't say, 'That miserable spawn of my worst enemy has come to make my existence miserable?'"

"I paraphrased. Your first day at Hogwarts," Snape said with a supercilious raise of an eyebrow. "Tell me about it."

Harry settled back into his chair. "It was amazing. I'd never been to London before the day that Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, and I'd certainly never been in a train station by myself. I'd never even ridden a train before. Hagrid hadn't told me how to access Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and if the Weasleys hadn't come along, I probably would have never gotten through. Mrs. Weasley helped me."

"Your first run-in with the Weasleys," Snape offered. "Love at first sight?"

"I wouldn't say that," Harry said. "I was so overwhelmed and anxious and downright terrified. I was certainly grateful for the help. I could just imagine having to telephone my uncle and ask him to come back and get me because I was too stupid to figure out how to get to the train. Not that they would have been home – they'd taken Dudley to the hospital. They likely wouldn't have agreed to bring me into the city if they hadn't had reasons of their own for being there."

"Dudley is your Muggle cousin?"

"Dudley is my _only _cousin," Harry stated, with pointed emphasis. Harry hated when wizards referred to anyone as Muggle, as though that were their defining characteristic.

Snape sniffed at his clarification. "Was he ill?"

"No, he was having a tail removed."

"You gave your cousin a tail?" Snape asked, torn between appalled and amused.

"Wasn't me. Hagrid did that when he came to give me my letter."

"He strangely enough didn't mention that when he returned to Hogwarts after his mission, full of stories of how adorable and unassuming you were," Snape remembered.

Harry laughed. "Of course he didn't. He's not supposed to have a wand, is he? Uncle Vernon made the mistake of insulting the Headmaster, and Hagrid went a little berserk." Harry shrugged. "He had it removed – no permanent harm done."

"So the Weasleys greased your way onto the platform . . ." Snape prodded.

"Oh. Yes. The twins were nice, and Ron came and sat with me. We've been friends since that day. He was self-conscious because of his family's lack of money, and I was because of my lack of wizard knowledge. We just sort of . . . fit together. It was wonderful, being away from the Dursleys, looking forward to my new life, but I was also more than a little afraid that once I arrived at Hogwarts, _someone_ would figure out that a terrible mistake had been made and that I really didn't belong here after all. I'm not sure anyone who grew up in a home with even a little bit of magic can imagine how intimidating that first exposure can be."

"You looked . . . incredibly small and overwhelmed," Snape said, seeing that small boy in his mind's eye, that miniature James Potter come to destroy the peace Snape had been experiencing since the Dark Lord's downfall.

"And I looked like my father."

"Spitting image," Snape confirmed. "I couldn't see your eyes that first time I saw you. You were James all over again."

"And you hated me."

Snape wished he could deny it, now that the hostility between them seemed to have ended. He wished he could say he was too big a person to have taken an old grudge against a long-dead man out on that man's undersized son. But he would be lying. And if they were going to lie to each other, they might as well stop this now. "I hated everything that you represented," he tried, twisting the truth rather than disregarding it.

"No, you didn't," Harry contradicted. "You hated _me. _ Thoroughly and publicly."

Snape sighed, then said, "I did. I resented you for shattering my peace, and for bringing up memories I had worked so hard to suppress. But there you were, somewhat life-sized, a daily reminder of that time in my life when I was victimized."

"Do you still hate me?" Harry asked. He knew he would be crushed if Snape said yes, but he had to know, and he held his breath while he waited for the other man's answer.

"No, Potter, I do not still hate you."

"When did you stop?"

"The night that Dumbledore died. I knew how hard it must have been for you to see that. I wish that events hadn't transpired that way. You were so angry at me, and I wanted so badly to tell you the truth."

"I wouldn't have believed you," Harry said quietly. "Not that night."

"We have gotten far afield of our topic," Snape said. They weren't ready to discuss the Headmaster. Not yet.

"Right," Harry said. "My first day. We came into the hall. I thought I was going to throw up. No one seemed to know what we were supposed to do to be sorted. Someone thought we had to wrestle a troll or something. I knew that if we had to perform some test of our magical aptitude that I was screwed. A stupid hat seemed a little . . . tame after all I'd imagined."

"The hat took a long time considering you," Snape remembered.

"It said I would do well in several houses. I asked it not to put me in Slytherin, and it tried to talk me into it. But I was adamant, so it put me in Gryffindor."

"Can I ask what you had against Slytherin – you, who knew nothing of the wizarding world? Were you already possessed of the prejudice which so many have against the house of the snake?"

"I guess I was," Harry confessed. "Hagrid had told me that all evil wizards were Slytherin, that Voldemort had been a Slytherin. He was responsible for my parents' deaths! Also, I'd met Malfoy, and he was a right prat. He'd already been sorted into Slytherin, and I wanted nothing to do with him."

"You met Draco before coming to Hogwarts?"

"Yes. He was in Madam Malkin's the day Hagrid took me there. He reminded me so much of Dudley – spoiled and entitled. But then he and his two goons came into the compartment Ron and I were sharing on the train, and he insulted the Weasleys and Hagrid, told me I'd be better suited associating with him, tried to intimidate us."

"That sounds like young Draco," Snape mused.

"Has he changed?" Harry asked. He'd not had much of a chance to speak with Malfoy since they'd both returned to school. In the classes they shared, Harry had noticed that Malfoy was much quieter than he used to be, going to class, seldom participating in oral discussions. He'd hoped that Malfoy felt some guilt for the part he'd played in past events and was behaving himself in atonement, but he had no real idea what was going on in that aristocratic head.

Snape immediately appeared to shut down, obviously unwilling to discuss his Slytherin with an outsider. "We have all changed," he said vaguely.

Whatever, Harry thought. He hadn't come here to discuss Draco Malfoy. "So tell me what you were thinking on that day," he requested. Since Snape was making this all about him and had kept a little diary concerning all of Harry's activities, the least he could do was offer his own thoughts on the day.

"You were puny, and it seemed impossible that someone like you could be the so-called savior of our world," Snape said immediately, harshly. "You were your father, and you were going to make my life miserable. You were going to misbehave in various and attention-seeking ways, you were going to form a gang and torture other students, you were going to be popular and attractive and good at everything without trying. I wanted nothing to do with you, but I was . . . required to concern myself with your welfare. But I did not have to pretend to like you, and I had no intention of doing so.

"And then you looked at me." Harry remembered the moment when their eyes had connected – the pain he'd felt in his scar, and the certainty he'd had later that Snape had been responsible for that pain. "And suddenly, there was Lily Evans before me. If you hadn't had your mother's eyes, I likely would have killed you at some point during your tenure at Hogwarts," Snape confessed.

And they were back to Lily, which was where Harry had always wanted to be. But then something struck him, something Snape had said earlier. "Hold on – you thought my father was attractive?"

Snape glared at him over his large nose. "What are you talking about?"

"You said I was my father, and I was going to be blah blah blah and attractive and good at everything. You found my father attractive?"

Leave it to the empty-headed youth before him to focus on that one unfortunate adjective. Like he was going to confess to finding his schooltime nemesis handsome. Even if he had. "What I meant was that _others_ found him attractive," he growled.

"Oh," Harry said, sensing that Snape wasn't being totally honest with him, but willing to let it go. What difference did it make, really? "Did you feel anything when we looked at each other that night?"

"Other than surprise about the eyes? No. Why?"

"My scar hurt as soon as our eyes connected. I had no idea why that night, but I later convinced myself that it was because you were evil and out to get me. Of course, now I realize that it wasn't you – it was Quirrell, who was sitting next to you. His possession by the Dark Lord made my scar hurt."

"Hmm," Snape said. "Had you known that your scar was a Dark detector of sorts, we likely could have sniffed out Quirrell's little problem a lot sooner."

"Yeah, hindsight," Harry agreed. "No one ever told me anything, though, so I couldn't have known it was important. So how do you think it would have turned out if I'd been sorted into Slytherin?"

"I have no idea," Snape confessed. "Perhaps I _would_ have killed you, likely during your first year. Or perhaps I would have discovered just how dismal your home life was and done something about it. I might have become something of a mentor to you. Can you imagine that?"

"No," Harry said honestly.

"And then I would have been required to hand you over to the Dark Lord when he returned in your fourth year. Perhaps your sorting into Gryffindor was the best thing that could have happened to you."

"Apparently so."

Snape was quiet for a moment. "Did Professor McGonagall never question you about your relatives?"

Now it was Harry's turn to glare at Snape. "I never agreed to talk about that. Our deal was everything that happened _while I was at Hogwarts_."

Snape shrugged. "All right. It is not important."

"Not important?" Harry huffed, miffed at the easy dismissal of his childhood difficulties. "They kept me in a cupboard for ten years! You don't think that's important?!"

Snape stared down at him again. "_You _didn't want to talk about it."

Harry sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't!"

Snape merely smirked at him, until Harry huffed in frustration. "Fine. Are we finished, then?"

"So eager to be away? Company not up to your high standards, Potter?" he said meanly.

Why had Snape suddenly turned so nasty? They'd been having a very civilized discussion, and Harry hadn't said anything to make the man turn on him. Had he? Harry thought back over the last few moments and was quite sure that he had not. "I should have known we couldn't do this without the vitriol," he muttered. He stood up. "Thank you for your time, sir. I'm not sure this is going to work. I'll leave you to your Tuesday evenings, then, shall I?"

Harry turned to the door, but he heard Snape's huge sigh. "Potter," he growled. "If you're going to upset this easily, we will never make our way through this."

Harry was willing to admit that he was more than a little sensitive when it came to Snape's treatment of him. He'd put up with so much for so long that any little comment brought him back to the time when he was convinced they were on different sides of the war and that Snape hated him and couldn't be trusted. "Maybe you could just try a little harder to be nicer," Harry suggested. "And I'll try not to be so sensitive. Deal?"

"Deal," Snape confirmed.

"Thank you. Then I . . . I'll plan on seeing you next Tuesday?"

"That _was_ our agreement," Snape said.

"All right then," Harry said, and he reached for the door.

"Did you not want information about your mother?" Snape asked. "I thought _that _was our deal. We talk about the past, in exchange for information regarding your mother."

"I thought you . . . I thought you'd had enough of me, I guess."

"I had enough of you before you walked through the door," Snape said before he could stop himself. It was just _natural_ to insult Potter. He couldn't _help _it. But he sighed again, to show Potter that he felt chagrined about the involuntary reaction. "But I made a bargain with you, and I will hold up my end of it."

Harry turned around and waited.

"Her favorite book was _Wuthering Heights_."

Harry waited for more, but that was all. "That's it?"

"We have a long way to go, Potter. If I tell you everything the first night, what will be left?"

"All right," Harry said, accepting what he could get. _Wuthering Heights_, huh? He'd always thought that was kind of a book for birds, but he'd pick up a copy next time he saw one, read it, maybe imagine his mum reading it alongside him. "Thank you, sir. I _do_ appreciate this."

"You are welcome, Potter. I will see you in Potions class. Be sure and do the alternate readings – you will not be able to complete your assignment without them."

"Already done, sir," Harry said. When he'd returned to school, he'd decided that he wasn't going to waste his time away as he had done before. This was too important to screw around with – this was his future. So he'd had a stern talk with himself, and together they'd decided that assignments would be completed as soon as possible after he had them, not the night before they were due. He was going to ask for extra help if he thought he needed it, and he was going to stay on top of his workload. He was going to do the very best on his NEWT's that he could. So far, though it had been only a week, he'd stuck to this new stricture, and the Potions assignment he'd received on Friday had been completed on Saturday, complete with the alternate readings.

"Really? Very well then. If you have your essay completed, you may bring it with you to our Tuesday night meetings. If you like, I would be willing to look it over and offer advice as to the content."

Harry could only imagine what kind of advice Snape would offer: _This is total drivel, Potter. It is good that you have shown this to me three days before it is due, as you will need the time to completely rewrite it if you hope to achieve a passing grade. _Still, if Harry wanted to do well in the man's class, it couldn't hurt to have him look over his homework. He had a thick skin. He hoped. "All right. Thank you, sir. Good night, then."

"Good night, Potter."

Harry left, thinking that could have gone both better and worse, but he tucked the new fact he'd learned about his mother away in his cherished memories file.


	3. Chapter 3

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Three

Another week had passed, and Harry found himself sitting in Snape's office again. This time, the moment he sat down, tea appeared on the desk. Harry looked up at Snape, surprised.

"I thought that tea would make these little get-togethers more . . . civilized," Snape offered.

Harry nodded his agreement. "Shall I pour?"

"Please."

Harry poured tea into both cups and pushed one toward his teacher, allowing the man to add whatever he liked. Harry watched as a single, level teaspoon of sugar was added to the brew and the spoon made two precise revolutions around the cup and then was placed gently on the desk. Harry added a splash of milk to his own tea and sat back, his cup in his hand.

"Biscuit?" Snape offered, gesturing at the tray that had appeared with the tea.

"No, thank you, sir. I've just come from dinner."

"Of course you have," the man snapped, seemingly offended that Harry hadn't accepted his offering. He wasn't accustomed to hosting students – he was _not_ Horace Slughorn. If the boy was going to just throw his hospitality back in his face, the next time he came here –

"On second thought, sir," Harry interrupted this internal rant, "perhaps I _will _have one." Harry had seen how his refusal of the treat had been received and sought to put their meeting back on the civilized footing Snape had so thoughtfully striven for. "Always room for a biscuit," he said, as he leaned forward to take one off the plate.

"Yes, well," Snape sniffed. "Don't let me force you, Potter," he said haughtily, but Harry could tell he was pleased.

Harry bit into his biscuit. "Mmm. Good," he said helpfully. He finished it off with three bites, then wondered what to do about the crumbs left behind on his hands, as there were no napkins on the desk. Shrugging a bit, Harry licked them clean, then wiped his wet fingers on his trousers. He looked up to find Snape staring at him oddly and assumed the man was appalled at his manners. "Sorry," he said, blushing.

Snape said nothing. He placed the now-familiar journal on his desk and opened it to the page he'd marked after their last session. "Your first week of school. I have written nothing worth remarking on. You appeared to be attending your lessons faithfully. There were no unusual events to mar the introduction to your wizarding education."

"Until Potions class," Harry noted, and he felt himself growing angry as the memory of that first class washed over him. He'd just been sitting there, minding his own business, as he'd done in every other class, and suddenly, a man three times his age and more than twice his size had begun deriding him, humiliating him, making him the class laughingstock. "What the hell did I ever do to you?" he snarled, unable to stop himself.

Snape accepted the boy's invective as his due and answered him calmly. "I have already told you what I was expecting when you arrived here. Not only were you your father in miniature, but you represented an end to the peaceful world I'd built, the peaceful world _we'd all _built. Once you came back to the world in which you belonged, it was only a matter of time before Bad Things started happening again. We all knew it."

"But it wasn't my _fault_," Harry whispered. "I didn't know about any of it. I didn't ask for a madman to mark me when I was a baby and kill my parents. I didn't ask to be raised by relatives who hated my very existence and never let me forget that I was only there out of charity. I didn't ask for the entire wizarding world to pin their hopes of survival on a child. _ I didn't ask for any of it!_"

"I know," Snape said. "But I cannot change how I felt then, nor can I change how I treated you. We are here to understand each other better, I think. I can only explain what my life was like then. And you can only explain what your life was like then as well."

They sat there for a moment in silence, until Snape continued. "And I think how you were treated by your mother's family is going to be crucial to my understanding of you. It is clear that I misunderstood key aspects of your growing up. It is clear, now, that your childhood was less than ideal. Only you can tell me exactly how complete that misunderstanding was. I understand if you do not wish to discuss details of your childhood. I myself have the same issues. It is completely up to you how we proceed from here."

Harry was not ready for this. He'd never discussed his childhood, in depth, with anyone, not even Ron and Hermione. Oh sure, several people knew a few of the broader details. The Weasleys knew that he never had enough to eat during the summer and that he'd been locked up during the summer before his second year. Hermione and Hagrid had both sent him food in the summer. He'd told Dumbledore how much he wanted to stay at Hogwarts, though he hadn't provided any details. But he'd told no one – _no one_ – about his life at the Dursleys. He couldn't stand the thought of how embarrassed he would be for people to learn how he'd been treated. He couldn't tolerate the looks of pity that were sure to be on everyone's face if they knew. It was the past, and it didn't matter any more. He didn't have to go back there, _would never_ go back there. What was the point in dredging it all up now? With Snape? Who would likely make fun of him or share what he learned with his Slytherins so that _they_ could make fun of him. No, he couldn't do it. Despite everything, he didn't trust this man enough with anything that personal.

"I can't," he finally said. "It's enough for our purposes that you know I was not pampered or spoiled or privileged or . . . or loved even." He hadn't meant to include that last one, actually, and wished he hadn't, but it was too late to take it back. "I think we can do what we need to do without getting into that."

Snape accepted that. He'd half expected Potter to make another "eye-for-an-eye" bargain: I'll talk about my childhood, if you'll talk about yours. And Snape had had no intention of talking with Potter about that, so it was probably best that the boy had outright refused. "All right," he said. "I can respect that." And because he wanted to move off this uncomfortable topic, he said, "Tell me about your first flying lesson."

Grateful, Harry smiled just a little, and began the tale of how he'd jumped on his broom following Neville's injury and Malfoy's nastiness; how scared he'd been that McGonagall was going to expel him or beat him; how thrilled he was to earn a place on the Gryffindor team; how wonderful it was to finally excel at something.

Typically, Snape saw this all in a different light. "And despite the fact that first years aren't allowed brooms at school, the headmaster gave your head of house leave to purchase for you a broom of racing quality. You were undersized, undertrained, had no flying experience _at all_, and they put you on a racing broom and said, 'Go for it, Harry,' all for a chance at a stupid trophy that would have meant nothing had you fallen from that broom or pulled some ridiculous stunt and killed yourself."

"'Stupid trophy?' I seem to recall McGonagall saying that you'd been gloating about Slytherin winning the cup for years. Said you were nearly intolerable, in fact. Don't try and tell me you think it's a 'stupid trophy,'" Harry said.

"Yes, well, at least Slytherin didn't exploit puny first-year students in an effort to gain an unfair advantage."

"Yeah, well, Slytherin sure as hell _would have_ done so if they'd had a puny first-year student that was worth exploiting!"

The two stared at each other, breathing fast, color rising. It was Harry who came to his senses first. "Perhaps Quidditch is one of those things that we should agree not to talk about, sir. Else I'll end up screaming obscenities at you, and you'll throw me out of here on my arse."

Snape nodded his agreement. "That is sensible, I believe. And it is getting late, and I still have marking to do, so perhaps we should end this here."

"All right. Um, Professor. I . . . I brought my Potions essay. You said you'd read it?"

"Hand it over, Potter," Snape said, extending his hand imperiously. When Harry gave it to him, Snape set it down on his desk and began reading.

Harry sat back in his chair, waiting, looking around the classroom. He felt like he'd been sitting all day, first in the library researching a few more sources for his Charms essay, then in the Eighth Year Common room reading over his already-completed Potions essay in preparation for seeing Snape tonight and his long-done Transfiguration essay in preparation for tomorrow's class, then in his own room re-reading the dry alternate Transfiguration materials. He got to his feet and stretched his arms up over his head, arching his stiff back, chiding himself for becoming so sedentary. Gryffindor Quidditch trials had taken place last Saturday. He'd spoken to Ginny, this year's Captain, about helping out in a coaching capacity, and she'd been eager for his assistance. Practice began tomorrow afternoon, and Harry couldn't wait to get back onto a broom and do something physical after all the cerebral stuff he'd been engaged in.

He looked round to see Snape staring at him, more particularly to see Snape staring at the patch of skin above his waistband that had been revealed when Harry had stretched his arms up. Harry hastily pulled his shirt back down, embarrassed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Snape ignored that. "Your argument here," Snape said, indicating the first paragraph of the essay, "is well-reasoned." The assignment had been to write about the ethical considerations of mind control potions. "You would do well to back up your assertions with concrete examples and case histories."

"I wasn't sure you'd want us to get that far into it, sir," Harry said. "I thought it was more an opinion you were looking for."

"It is, Mr. Potter, but if your opinion is shored up by historical precedent, your argument becomes that much more compelling. Pretend as though you were a solicitor attempting to sway a judge or jury to your client's point of view. The more foundation your opinion has, the less like opinion it seems, and the more like fact others are likely to interpret it."

Harry nodded in understanding. "I see what you mean. I kind of thought about doing that, but then I thought you might think it was too wordy."

"Well-reasoned argument is always worth listening to, Mr. Potter. It is mindless drivel set down for the sole purpose of filling up space that I object to."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, taking his essay back. He groaned a bit internally about the fact that he'd have to go back to the library tonight for source materials. His school schedule had been firmly set by now: Monday morning, Charms; Monday afternoon, start on Charms homework; Tuesday, complete Charms homework and any readings assigned in that class; Tuesday night, meet with Snape; Wednesday morning, Transfiguration; Wednesday afternoon, start on Transfiguration homework; Thursday, complete Transfiguration homework and any readings assigned in that class; Thursday evenings would now be filled with Quidditch practice; Friday morning, a bit of a lie-in (the only day he allowed himself that privilege) and prepare for Potions; Friday afternoon, Potions; Saturday morning, finish Potions homework and any required reading; Saturday afternoon was set aside for Quidditch practice; and Sundays were catch-up days, spent finishing up anything that needed final touches, visiting the lab for practical potions work, and the room of requirement with anyone he could talk into going with him for DADA practice, and practical Transfiguration work. Three classes didn't sound like much, but each one included a hefty amount of homework, and Harry found himself without the free time he'd envisioned when he first saw his schedule. Still, so far he was keeping on top of everything, and he was proud of himself for his dedication to his studies.

"You are most welcome, Mr. Potter," Snape said. "When your mother was three, she had her appendix removed."

Ah, the Lily crumb. Which, of course, was the whole reason he'd come here. It seemed to Harry, though, that the focus of their visits had shifted away from his mother and more to the two of them working out their twisted and contentious history. Twice now Harry had nearly left here without realizing that Snape hadn't shared anything about Lily with him. Strange.

Harry smiled at his professor. "Did she show you her scar?" Harry wanted to know.

Snape's face colored pink at the question. "I saw it when we were swimming at the sea, when your parents went on holiday when we were both ten. They were kind enough to bring me along. Petunia was also allowed to bring a friend, a girl her age from the neighborhood. When Lily chose me, I was . . ."

Snape had been shocked, floored nearly. Lily _did _have other friends – she was a personable girl, and people were drawn to her. She could have chosen anyone from the flock of people she spent time with. But she'd chosen her strange little male friend, the boy that no one else liked, the boy that everyone else made fun of because of the way he dressed and the way he acted, and how different he was. And Snape had been surprised into tears when she'd asked him. She, of course, had thought him extremely silly to cry over something like that, but she'd put an arm around his shoulders comfortingly until he'd gotten himself under control, embarrassed beyond words that he'd cried in front of a _girl_. And then had come the nerve-wracking asking of permission from his parents. So sure was he that his father would deny him this that he'd tried desperately not to allow himself to hope, but he'd caught his father in a good mood, and the man had said yes. Severus had worked incredibly hard to stay out of the man's way altogether until the day had arrived, sure that permission would be revoked if Severus so much as breathed wrong in his father's presence, but he'd managed to make it. And Severus had spent an incredible week at the sea in the presence of people who didn't berate him (well, except for Petunia and the little sycophant she'd dragged along with her, but he could handle _them_ with ease after dealing with his father) and who fed him regularly and didn't backhand him for entering a room without permission. It had been nothing short of heaven.

Harry sat quietly, respectfully, while Severus lost himself in the memory. Finally Snape seemed to realize that he'd been in the middle of a sentence when he'd drifted off, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was, so he cleared his throat self-consciously and said, "Well, that is all for tonight, Potter. I will see you on Friday then."

Harry rose. "Yes, sir. Thank you again."

"Oh, Potter," Snape said, as though something had just come to mind.

"Sir?"

He opened a drawer in his desk and removed a book, which he held out to Harry. "You may borrow this, if you like."

Harry took the book into his hand and turned it over. _Wuthering Heights. _"Sir, I don't know what to say. I was going to buy a copy next time I had the opportunity. But this is . . ."

"It is nothing. I happened to have a copy on hand. They do not carry Muggle literature at the book store in Hogsmeade, and I assumed it would be some time before you were able to get away from school to a proper book store. You may keep it as long as you need. I am in no hurry to have it back."

Harry looked up at him in wonder at this generous gesture. "Thank you, sir. I'll take good care of it."

"See that you do," Snape said stiffly.

"Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Potter."

Harry was engrossed in the cover of the book as he walked away from Snape's office. He wondered if this book had ever belonged to his mother, and he opened to the title page. The date of publication was 1990 – Lily had already been dead almost ten years. He felt a little disappointed when he realized that she had never touched the book, but the fact that he had it, that he could read it _now_, meant a lot to him.

"Potter," said a familiar voice. "What are _you_ doing down here?"

"Malfoy," Harry said with a curt nod. "Pleasant evening?"

"Pleasant enough," the blonde said. "But you haven't answered my question. What are you doing down here?"

"I wasn't aware that I had to have a Draco Malfoy approved reason for being in the dungeons," Harry said, taken aback by Malfoy's aggressiveness. "Was possession of the dungeons given over to you when Hogwarts was rebuilt? Did you perhaps use the Malfoy fortune to finance the repair?"

Draco's lips thinned more than usual. It was well known that a large majority of the Malfoy fortune had been confiscated by the Ministry, in payment for the family's war crimes.

"Perhaps I did," he said. "So state your business."

"Look, Draco," Harry said, using the man's name in an effort to demonstrate that he meant no harm and was tired of the animosity between the two, "I don't want to fight with you any longer. The war is over. We don't have to like each other, but I'd like if it we didn't go out of our way to antagonize each other either. I've let bygones be bygones, and it would be nice if you could do the same. I hope you have a nice evening."

Harry walked away from him, his senses on heightened alert for Draco drawing his wand on Harry's back. When he made it to a corner and turned round it, out of Draco's line of fire, he let out a relieved breath.


	4. Chapter 4

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Four

"Do you know why Draco's being such a prick?" Harry bluntly asked Snape at their next meeting. Snape had served tea again, and Harry picked up a biscuit off the tray. Snape had had these last time, too, these little shortbread wafers with one side covered in chocolate. Harry hadn't tasted anything quite so delicious in a long time.

"Is Mr. Malfoy being mean to you?" Snape taunted in a childlike singsong.

"No," Harry said with a put-upon roll of his eyes at Snape's immaturity. "He's just acting like the world's biggest prat. I told him I don't want to fight with him any longer, that the war is over and we should just let it go, but he won't. He's just making snide little comments all the time and being . . . well, a prick."

Snape stared at Harry for a time. "The two of you have never been friendly. Did you really expect he would just forget your years of animosity, forget what you did to him in that bathroom, just like that?"

"He was going to crucio me!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "Why does no one get that? Granted, I shouldn't have used a spell that I didn't know, and I felt horrible about what I'd done to him, but he was going to CRUCIO me! Was I just supposed to let him?"

"Your willingness to martyr yourself _does _have a limit, is that what you're saying?" Snape asked with a sneer.

"Aren't we supposed to be talking about my first year?" Harry demanded. "What's your little journal tell you we're up to?"

"You will mind your tone, Mr. Potter, or these meetings will be at an end," Snape warned with a stern look at the younger man. A certain amount of familiarity was to be expected, but outright insolence he would not tolerate.

"Sorry, sir," Harry spit out. "I shouldn't have brought up Draco. Can we just get back on topic, please?"

"We may," Snape agreed. He'd already looked at his journal. "Halloween."

"Ah, the 'troll in the dungeon,'" Harry cried out in a fair imitation of Quirrell's tremulous announcement. "I understand so much more about that night now, of course. Quirrell let the troll in so that he could distract everyone away from the Stone. Do you think he was going to try to steal it that night, or was he simply scoping out the protections around it?"

"I think that was his preliminary foray into the enchantments," Snape said.

"But this is what I don't understand," said Harry. "Quirrell was trying to distract everyone so he could get into the third floor corridor, right?"

"Presumably that was his goal," Severus agreed.

"So how did the troll get all the way up to the fourth floor? Did Quirrell put it there, which makes no sense because he was trying to get people _away_ from that area, I thought. Or did it wander up there, past the headmaster and all the teachers? It just doesn't make any sense."

Snape stared at Harry for a moment, surprised that the boy had analyzed this angle of the event, which was an angle that had never occurred to Snape himself. "That is curious," he admitted. "Trolls don't move _that _quickly. Still, who can fathom the workings of a mad man?"

"I suppose," Harry said. "So when Quirrell made his announcement, were you instantly suspicious?"

"I had been suspicious of Quirrell for some time, so, yes, when he came screaming into the Great Hall, I suspected the troll may have been a diversion on _someone's _part. It was possible that it was someone besides Quirrell, but it seemed too unusual an occurrence to have been mere coincidence."

"So you went directly to the third floor?"

"I spoke with the headmaster and told him of my concerns about sending my Slytherins down to the dungeons with a troll supposedly on the loose. Then I spoke with my prefects and countermanded the Headmaster's order for them to go directly to the common room. Instead, they were to remain in the Great Hall, with the older students on the perimeter and the younger students well away from danger. I instructed the Bloody Baron to keep watch and to come for me immediately if the troll came anywhere near the Great Hall, and I headed off to the third floor."

"Where you met Fluffy."

"Where I met Fluffy," Snape repeated. "The beast had managed to work itself partly loose from the chain that was holding it tied, so that it could reach the door. Immediately upon opening it, I was bitten by the leftmost head."

"Ouch!" Harry winced in sympathy. That dog had been _frightening_.

"Quite," Snape agreed. "Although, it ended up with a little souvenir of its own from our encounter," he said in a very satisfied manner.

"What did you do?"

"I stuck my wand in its eye," Snape said, now sounding more than a little embarrassed.

"You stuck your wand in its eye?" Harry repeated, amused.

"It was an instinctive reaction!" Snape defended himself. "I wanted it to let go of my leg, and I struck out. It let go," he said, justified.

"I'm sure it did," Harry chuckled. "So you stuck your wand in a cerberus' eye and I stuck mine up a troll's nose that night."

"Yes, let's talk about the troll," Snape, happy to have the topic off himself. "Tell me how that all came about. That story that Miss Granger told was completely unbelievable."

"Yeah, wasn't it?" Harry remembered fondly. That was the start of his friendship with Hermione, and he couldn't help but look back on it with a warm feeling. "She was so awesome. Ron had been mean to her, see, insulting her about not having friends or something. Which was true, but still . . . Anyway, we hadn't see her all afternoon, and she didn't show up at the feast. Someone said she was crying in the bathroom. We felt bad, of course, but then when we were heading back up to the tower to get away from the troll, I realized that she didn't know, so Ron and I went off to find her.

"When we got to the corridor, we heard it and smelled it," Harry's nose wrinkled at the memory. "It went into this room, so we locked the door and thought ourselves quite the heroes. Until we realized we'd locked it _into_ the girls bathroom. Hermione screamed, understandably. We had little choice but to go in after her at that point.

"The troll was trying to get Hermione, and I couldn't think of anything to do to distract it, so I jumped on its back. When I did, my wand just went up its nose. Ron levitated its club over its head and let it fall. It clunked the troll on the head, and it fell down, unconscious. Then you all showed up."

"So the story that Miss Granger told was a complete fabrication?"

"Yup," Harry said proudly. "She was trying to protect us. Not that we deserved it. But she became our friend that day, so it all worked out for the best."

"Yes, and once again your reckless actions were rewarded with points and praise," Snape noted sourly.

Harry shrugged. What could he say about that? It was true. And really, they'd not learned anything from the experience – they still kept flinging themselves into dangerous situations without thought of the possible repercussions. They weren't Gryffindors for nothing.

Harry looked at his watch. "Wow. We're done early today. Unless you want to talk about something else. What came next?"

"Gryffindor versus Slytherin," Snape said dryly.

"Ooh, Quidditch. Better wait until next time, I think."

Snape nodded his agreement with that plan. "Your mother's favorite color was blue. Light blue. Specifically, the light blue of a cloudless summer sky."

Harry smiled. He'd always liked that color too. It seemed so . . . endless, like there was no top to it. He bent over to fish his potions essay from his bag and placed it on the desk. "Will you look at my essay again?"

Without speaking, Snape picked up the scroll and began to read. He made several short comments in the margins and handed it back. "There are a couple of areas that you could expound on, and you need to recheck your stones in one paragraph, but otherwise a decent effort."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said gratefully, stuffing the essay back into his bag. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione and I are taking our Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT's on Saturday. I was wondering . . . I know you probably consider you're wasting one evening every week already with me, doing this. And I really appreciate it, I do. Learning these things about my mum is just . . . well, I can't tell you how much it means to me, sir. But I was wondering, if it wouldn't be too much trouble – "

"Are you going to get to the point some time this evening, Potter? I believe I have sprouted three new gray hairs while you have been twittering about."

"Yes, sir. I was just wondering if you might be willing to work with me a little bit on some hexes and stuff, just as kind of a refresher. I feel pretty ready for it, but a little bit of last-minute practice can't hurt, right?"

"I believe we have a perfectly adequate Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher on staff here at Hogwarts, do we not?"

"Well, yeah," Harry conceded, "but I was just . . . I know that you'll challenge me, sir. You won't take it easy on me.

"And you think Mr. Weasley will?"

"I don't know," Harry said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. "I just would prefer you."

The absurdity of that statement struck both of them. Harry Potter. Preferred Severus Snape. Over a Weasley.

Snape actually found himself at a loss for words for a moment. His mouth opened, he assumed to turn the boy's request down, but no sound came out.

"Please, sir," Harry interjected before Snape could say no. "I know it's asking a lot. I'll make it worth your while."

Oh, that could be interesting. And also suggestive. Snape raised one eyebrow until it had disappeared under his hair. "And how might you do that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry blushed when he realized what Snape might be insinuating. "I could help you prepare potion ingredients or something. That would actually get me some extra potions practice, too, so that would be a good thing."

"So you get a win-win, and I get . . . what?"

"The satisfaction of helping a student in need?" Harry tried.

Snape almost smiled at the boy's foolishness. Almost. "Be here at seven on Thursday evening," he said, before he could think too much more about it.

Harry's smile lit up his face. "Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!" He stood up and retrieved his bag from the floor. "I'll just get out of your hair now. I'll see you on Thursday."

When Harry put his hand on the knob, Snape said, "Oh, and Potter?"

"Yes, sir?" Harry said, turning back around.

"You may wish to request a pain potion from Madam Pomfrey before you come down."

Harry's smile faltered a bit, but he was a Gryffindor, right? Brave in the face of certain doom and all that? He swallowed audibly. "See you then," he said.

Somewhat more subdued, Harry left the office at a sedate pace. Light gray eyes watched him go.


	5. Chapter 5

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** **This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters.** If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Five

Harry hadn't sweated this much for a long time. For two hours, he and Snape had thrown hexes back and forth. They'd met in Snape's office and laid down the ground rules for their little "mock duel," and then they'd trekked up to the Room of Requirement. Harry was quite proud of himself – he'd held his own. He'd made up for Snape's greater experience and much more vast spell repertoire with a physical quickness that Snape couldn't match and an almost Slytherin sneakiness. He'd knocked Snape down as many times as he'd had the same done to him, and though neither of them had been permanently damaged, both would be sporting bruises and sore muscles for the next day or so. Well, Harry would – Snape probably had a potion to take care of such things.

As soon as Snape called "Time," Harry found the nearest wall, slumped against it, and let himself slide to the floor, panting from exertion. As tired as he was, he felt good. He did not like how sedentary his life had become, and he vowed to find more ways to get in a bit of exercise on a regular basis. He was pleased to note that Snape seemed quite winded as well, although the older man was still on his feet.

"Kreacher," Harry called suddenly.

His weird little house-elf appeared before him. "Master has called?" he said in his gravelly, abrading voice, bowing low to the floor.

"Yes, Kreacher. Would you bring us some ice water, please? Oh, and maybe a few sandwiches." His immediate desire was for water, but he realized just how hungry the last couple of hours had made him as well.

"Certainly, Master, your desires are Kreacher's desires. Kreacher lives to serve his blood-tainted Master."

"Just do it, Kreacher," Harry said tiredly.

Kreacher looked at him with a strange mixture of affection and loathing, then disappeared. Moments later, he was back, bearing a tray that was much larger than he was over his head which held a pitcher of water, two goblets, and an assortment of sandwiches. "Shall Kreacher hold the tray while Master enjoys his feast?"

Harry rolled his eyes at the little martyr routine. "No, Kreacher. Just set it here," Harry said, patting the floor beside him.

Kreacher did, managing not to topple anything off of the tray and onto Harry, although it was close.

"Thank you," Harry said, and he immediately filled both goblets with water.

"Is there anything else that Master desires?" Kreacher asked.

"No, Kreacher. That will be all, thank you."

"No, thank _you_, Master. It is Kreacher's honor to . . ."

"Go, Kreacher!" Harry firmly interrupted

Kreacher popped out of existence with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"That is a strangely passive-aggressive little house-elf you have there, Potter," Snape noted with amusement.

Harry sighed. He couldn't even have a normal house-elf. "Tell me about it," he griped. He held up a goblet to Snape, who came closer to accept it. Harry drained his own in one long, satisfying swig. When he finished, Snape was just finishing his as well. "More?"

Snape nodded and held out the goblet, which Harry refilled. After refilling his own, Harry picked up one of the sandwiches. "He may be an annoying little shite, but he makes the most amazing chicken sandwiches." He bit into one and closed his eyes happily to better appreciate the flavor. "Mmmm," he moaned obscenely. "That's good!"

When he opened his eyes, he found Snape staring at him with an expression he couldn't read. Hoping to make up for his rudeness in starting in without offering Snape any, he said, "Please, Professor. Help yourself. There's plenty here."

Snape thought about declining, but he really was quite hungry. Potter had made him exert himself beyond what he'd expected. The boy had really gotten quite good at dueling, and if someone took the time to teach him a greater variety of useful spells, he would be nearly unstoppable. Though Snape had to admit he'd been somewhat distracted – after the first few minutes, Harry had removed his shirt, apparently warming up very quickly after the energetic start to their duel. As much as he hadn't been prepared for the level of skill Harry exhibited, he really hadn't expected to feel attraction – physical attraction – for the boy's physique, which, he had to admit objectively, was quite nicely toned. He certainly wasn't muscle-bound, but Snape wasn't attracted to men who had more muscles than brains. But his thin form was lithe and supple and moved gracefully when he dueled, and with his shirt off, Snape acquired a full appreciation for just how the muscles he did have moved under his skin, a skin that shown with a fine layer of sweat. He could never admit it to Potter, but more than one of Harry's successful hexes had gotten through his shields because he'd been admiring the boy's form, rather than minding his own spellcasting.

Snape now thought about conjuring a chair but decided the hell with it and folded himself up to sit on the floor, his back against the wall, on the other side of the tray, a move which obviously surprised Potter. Snape chose a sandwich and began to eat. Potter was right – the sandwiches were extremely tasty.

"So tell me the truth, Professor," Harry said after he'd eaten one entire sandwich. "What do you think of my form?"

Snape swallowed the food that was in his mouth without further chewing, which resulted in a large lump of food needing to be pushed down his gullet. What did the boy mean? Had he noticed that Snape had been looking at him inappropriately, admiring him, as it were? After he'd managed to not choke on his mouthful, he said, very stupidly, "What?"

"My form," Harry repeated. "What did you think? Am I ready for the NEWT? If you were the examiner, what grade would you give me?"

Oh. The exam. Potter was talking about his DADA NEWT. Of course he was. How silly of him to think . . . "Well," he said, his voice, he was pleased to note, in its usual collected and biting tone, "that _was _only a practical demonstration of your skill. But assuming that you can adequately describe the theory behind what we've just done, and we both know that theory is not your strong point, you should do adequately on your NEWT."

Harry rolled his eyes at this lukewarm assessment. "But just say you were the examiner grading the practical portion of my exam," he pursued. "What grade would you give me?"

"Are you fishing for praise, Mr. Potter?"

"Only if you think I deserve it," Harry said, somewhat smugly, because he knew – _he knew_ – that he deserved it. He just wondered if Snape could bring himself to actually say it.

"Were I your examiner," Snape said, "and were I grading your performance here tonight, I would have no choice but to give you an 'Outstanding.' Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"I wanted to hear the truth," Harry said, his pleased smile lighting up his face. "And since I know that you of all people would never lie just to make me feel better, I feel pretty confident about Saturday. Oh, and I'll nail the written portion of the exam, too, just so you know," he predicted confidently.

Snape picked up his water goblet and raised it in toast. "I believe that you will, Mr. Potter."

Still grinning, Harry picked up another sandwich, and they ate companionably in silence for a time.

When Snape had eaten all that he wanted, he said, "I spoke with Draco Malfoy yesterday."

"Did you? Did you discuss anything interesting?"

"We discussed you. Some people may find that interesting. I, on the other hand, decidedly do not."

Harry ignored this. Snape didn't sound as though he'd really meant the insult, more like the habit was so ingrained he didn't even know he was doing it.

"Are you going to tell me what, specifically, you discussed?" Harry asked when Snape offered nothing further.

"Hmm. Well, we discussed his animosity toward you. I told him that he had to realize that he was fighting a losing battle, being openly antagonistic toward you. You are at the height of your popularity. The Ministry would likely rename this school in your honor if you were to ask them to do so. He is smart enough to understand that open animosity with you is not going to win him any friends or political influence.

"Is that what he wants? Political influence? Like his father?"

"His father who is currently incarcerated in Azkaban, you mean?"

"You _know_ what I mean," Harry said firmly. "His father has always been a player in the political arena. Even when some of us could see him for just what he truly was, the Ministers of Magic that we've suffered through have felt the need to keep him close, or more likely, his _galleons_ close. He practically had Fudge licking his arse. For all I know, he actually _did _in private."

Snape winced. He certainly hadn't needed that mental image. "Don't be crude," he warned.

"Sorry. I just never quite understood why Fudge couldn't see beyond that smarmy, better-than-thou exterior. I always wondered if there was some . . . personal reason that he didn't tell Lucius to take a jump."

"Teenaged boys," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "Everything has to be about sex. As far as I know, Lucius Malfoy's major attraction in Fudge's eyes was his very large . . . bank account."

Harry snickered at the way Snape had intentionally paused, suspecting that the young man would automatically think lewd thoughts, which, of course, he had. Harry had to outright laugh when Snape continued.

"Also as far as I know, the only thing that _is_ very large about Lucius Malfoy _is_ his Gringotts vault."

"And you tell _me _not to be crude!" Harry chuckled when he'd gotten his laughter under control. "Should I ask how you come to have this information?" Harry winced a bit at the wording, but bravely looked up at Snape.

"No, Mr. Potter, you should not ask," Snape said, feeling as though this familiarity with his student had perhaps gone a bit far. "I believe we were talking about Draco Malfoy, not his father. And if you ask if Draco inherited any of this father's . . . assets, I shall hex you with something not on the Ministry-approved list of dueling spells."

Harry sniggered again, liking this almost playful Snape much more than the usual dour one he was exposed to. Well, not exposed – not like _that_. Blimey, his mind really had gone into the gutter. He tried to school his expression into one less juvenile and more adultlike, but wasn't sure he was even capable of it at this point, so he wasn't sure how well he'd managed. "Wasn't even thinking that," he said truthfully. He had absolutely _no _interest in Draco Malfoy's assets. "Did Draco tell you why he was still so angry with me? Is it the Sectumsempra thing?"

The Sectumsempra _thing_. The boy had almost killed his classmate, _would _have done so if Snape hadn't been close by to perform the healing necessary to close the cuts inflicted by the malicious spell. And he referred to it as a _thing_. "He did not tell me the reason for his animosity." Though Snape could guess. Although he'd tried to hide it, Snape had become painfully aware during their discussion that Draco Malfoy had a rather inappropriate crush on his former head of house. The fact that he'd somehow known that Snape and Potter were spending time together had combined with the boy's years-long dislike of his Gryffindor nemesis to make him jealous and surly.

But he was not going to share his speculations with Potter. Partly because he was quite sure that Potter could never believe that anyone would have any type of crush on his unattractive teacher, and he did not want to see the look of disbelief in the teen's eyes should he give voice to his suspicions. "In any event, I advised Draco that although you and he may never become bosom buddies, he should endeavor not to treat you so disdainfully, for a variety of reasons. Whether he will heed this advice or not remains to be seen." Snape rather suspected he would not.

"Well, thanks, I guess. For trying. I'll just avoid him as much as possible until he gets over it. Or grows out of it. Or whatever." Harry yawned, covering his mouth hurriedly. "Sorry."

"It is late," Snape observed, pushing himself to his feet. "And I still have marking to do."

Harry stood up as well, much more fluidly and easily than Snape had. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, Professor. I think I'm gonna ace that NEWT." Harry picked his shirt up off the floor and put it on, effectively ending Snape's view of all that lovely skin. He was sad to see it go.

"That has very little to do with me, and everything to do with your own innate talent in this area."

"Well, thank you for saying that," said Harry, blushing with pleasure, and Snape was a little disappointed that he didn't get to discover whether, when the boy blushed, the pink tinge spread downward over his chest. "But I still do appreciate your taking the time for me. I like that we can spend time together, almost as sort of friends, without all the bad stuff we've been through getting in the way."

Snape stared down at the deranged boy. Potter thought of them as _friends_? Snape hadn't had a friend in years. The last one he'd had – well, he'd gotten _her _killed. Being a friend of Severus Snape was a dangerous occupation. Still, if anyone was qualified for that job, it was perhaps the unlikely savior of mankind that stood before him now, all open and honest with his feelings and looking as though he were six years old and trying to make a friend on the playground at his new school. Snape should crush him now, he knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Friends might be pushing it a bit, Mr. Potter. I would be happy if we could settle for lack of hostility."

Harry smiled. "I look forward to being your 'lack of hostility,' Professor Snape."

Snape rolled his eyes at the boy's silliness. "Go, now," he ordered firmly. "Before my hostility beats up your hostility."

Still smiling, Harry said, "All right, Professor. Thank you again." He strolled happily to the door. "Oh, and by the way. It'd be all right if you called me Harry. I wouldn't mind. In fact, I think I'd like it." He opened the door and walked through it with a cheery, "Good night, sir."

Snape stood and looked at the empty door for a long, long time.

Boisterous knocking interrupted Snape's quiet Saturday evening spent in his office working on lesson plans, startling him just a little with its suddenness and intensity. What on earth . . .? Before he could get up, or issue an invitation to enter to the idiot pounding on his door, it banged open and Potter came dashing in.

"I'm back!" the disheveled boy announced happily. "It went great! The written part was a piece of cake, and the practical – the practical was awesome. The bloke I had was really good. Well, he wasn't as good as you, but who is, right?" he asked with a beaming smile for his . . . mentor? "You should have seen me, sir! I was like . . ." Harry sprang into position, demonstrating the technique he'd used during his duel with his examiner. "And then he went like . . . whoosh, and there was this great ball of light, so I went . . ." Potter changed positions, this one a more defensive stance.

Snape sat back in his chair, an amused smile on his face, wondering if the nuisance was going to act out every hex and jinx both he and his examiner had thrown at each other. As entertaining as that might be to watch, as Harry's boyish enthusiasm was quite contagious, Snape wasn't sure his office full of jars of ingredients could take the stress of the boy's leaping about and flailing of limbs. Snape let him demonstrate a few more moves before he shouted to be heard over Potter's energetic retelling of the "battle."

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry stopped mid-crouch, then straightened awkwardly. "Yes, sir?"

"I take it your NEWT went well?"

"Yes, sir. Very well," Harry said, blushing a bit at his own foolishness.

"I am pleased to hear that. And your visit to London?" The Ministry was providing NEWT examinations in a large classroom in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement used for Auror training.

"Oh, that was good, too. Hermione and I went to dinner afterward. She's . . . gone, did you know that? This was her last exam. She had everything cleaned out of her room before we left, and now she's just . . . gone."

"And what are Miss Granger's plans now?"

"She got deferred admission to uni. She's going to work for her parents until that starts up, earning a bit of extra money for books and supplies and things."

"Very practical. And what university was lucky enough to be selected by the young lady who has been top in her class likely every year of her life?"

"The wizarding branch of Oxford," Harry said proudly.

Snape nodded his head, impressed. "Well done for her, then. They are notoriously difficult to get into and only accept truly exemplary students."

"Yeah," said Harry softly. "She's got her whole life planned out." He wondered what that felt like.

"And do you not have a plan, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know about a _plan_. Hopes, dreams maybe. But a plan? That's not how I operate," he said with a mischievous grin.

"That is certainly a true statement."

"Hey, in my defense, whenever I do make a plan, it usually falls apart pretty quickly and I end up flying by the seat of my pants anyway, so . . ."

"So tell me, then, what are your hopes and dream?"

Harry dropped into the chair in front of Snape's desk. "Well, I think you know that I've always wanted to be an auror." Snape nodded. "I guess that's sort of what I'm aiming at. I don't know what else I could be good at."

"You could be good at whatever you chose to apply yourself to," Snape offered. "So why have you not made being an auror your 'plan' then?"

"Because I have to pass a Potions NEWT before I can do that," he said, looking down at his hands. "And we both know how rubbish I am at Potions, so I don't want to let myself want it too badly. Because then, when I can't have it . . ."

"Mr. Potter," Snape said sternly, and he didn't continue until Harry had looked up at him. "It is my belief that we have not yet discovered your Potions aptitude, for reasons that I likely do not have to elucidate. Perhaps you should wait to anoint yourself 'rubbish at Potions,' until you have had a chance, a real chance, to learn them."

"Will you help me?" Harry asked hopefully. "Because there's so much basic stuff that I just don't know. Like why you have to stir in a certain direction, or the difference between chopping and dicing, or how to maintain temperature so that you get a simmer and not a boil. Without knowing all of that stuff, trying to make advanced potions is pretty much impossible."

"Yet you did well your sixth year," Snape noted.

"Yeah, but I think we both know why that was."

"Because I was not the teacher," Snape said.

"No. Well, yes, maybe that had something to do with it. If you'd been the teacher, I never would have been accepted into the class. Since it was Slughorn, I was allowed in, but I didn't know that until I got to school, so I had no book. The rest, as they say, is history."

"Hmm. Still, you were able to follow the instructions in my book and produce, at least according to Slughorn, some amazing concotions."

Harry blushed with modest pleasure. "It was because of the book, though. I didn't know that stuff."

"No one knows 'that stuff' when they are in school, Potter. That is why we have books and teachers and classes."

"But the books I'd had in the past were useless. The notes you wrote in your book were clear and easy to understand."

"Then I shall attempt to be 'clear and easy to understand' when I assist you," Snape promised.

Harry's eyes opened wide. "You'll help me?"

"I believe the Headmistress told you that we teachers were available to assist any student who required extra assistance."

"Yeah, but you and me and Potions, you know? Seems more volatile than an erumpent horn."

"And you have vast experiences with erumpent horns, do you?"

"_One _experience," Harry clarified. "Which was more than enough."

"Well, we will work to make sure that we do not explode and destroy everything that we touch, then."

Harry stared at him, his green eyes frank and appraising. "You've changed, sir. Since the war."

"Haven't we all?"

"Yeah, I suppose. But you – you're . . . calmer, nicer, less impatient."

"I lived under a great amount of stress for a very long time, Mr. Potter. Once that stress was removed, I found it easier to be calm and patient. I think nice might be stretching it just a little."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "You're nice. You're being nice to me now. You don't get to deny it."

"All right. I will not deny it. But if you spread it around Hogwarts that I am . . . _nice_," he said the word with a great deal of disgust, "I shall have to take severe punitive measures against you."

"All right," Harry said with a grin, miming zipping his lips, "it'll be our secret."

"If there is nothing further that you need, Mr. Potter . . ."

"Oh, yeah. Right. I'll let you get back to . . . whatever it is you were doing."

The young man seemed reluctant to leave, and Snape thought he knew why. "Will you be all right without Miss Granger's constant companionship, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sighed dramatically. He missed Hermione already, and he'd seen her only a hour ago. "Yeah, I'll be fine," he breathed out, though he certainly didn't sound like he believed it. "It's going to be lonely, though. Everyone has such different schedules now. Still, I've got my studies to keep me busy. And I can just come down here and see you more," he said in a bright, joking tone, but his eyes contained a large amount of hope that Snape couldn't help but notice.

"Perhaps you should get a dog," he suggested.

Harry snorted. "Right. A dog." Maybe he _should_ think about getting another familiar. Not an owl, though. He wasn't ready for that yet. He hadn't quite gotten over losing Hedwig. But a cat might be nice. He'd liked Crookshanks, back when Hermione had him at school. She hadn't brought him this year, knowing she'd only be here for a month, and he'd stayed with her parents. Not a rat – _definitely _not a rat. And he thought toads were pretty boring, actually. Yeah, a cat might be nice.

"I'll see you, Professor," he finally said after thinking all this through. "Thanks again for . . . you know – everything."

"It was my pleasure, Potter," Snape said, and really, it had been. "I am glad that things went well for you today."

Harry smiled before proffering a quiet, "Good night," and leaving the office in a much more subdued way than he'd entered it.


	6. Chapter 6

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Six

"Gryffindor versus Slytherin," said Snape to Harry over his cooling tea cup. "Shall we talk quidditch, or avoid the topic altogether?"

"Can you behave yourself?" Harry teased.

"Me?" Snape asked, mock-indignant. "You are the one that cannot keep his emotions under control when the topic turns to quidditch."

"Well, let's talk about Quirrell then and sort of forget the quidditch. Because really, what Quirrell did was much more important than the fact that it was my first ever quidditch game. That I, incidentally, caught the snitch in. Against Slytherin. Your house," Harry helpfully pointed out.

"Good thing we're not talking about quidditch," Snape observed dryly.

Harry straightened up seriously. "Right. There I was, flying around the pitch, just minding my business, when all of a sudden . . . boom. My broom tried to toss me off."

"You must have been frightened," Snape said.

"More than a little," Harry agreed. "I thought I was going to be thrown off and fall to my death."

"And I was trying to prevent that. Though that probably would have been impossible for you to believe then."

"And then your robes caught fire," Harry said with a suspicious little giggle.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about _that_, Mr. Potter?"

"Hermione," Harry confessed, now that Hermione was away from Hogwarts and no longer subject to Snape's ability to hold a grudge for a really, really long time. "She saw that your lips were moving and thought it was you casting the spell. So she snuck up behind you and lit your robes on fire. Worked," he said with a shrug.

"Worked?" Snape spluttered. "She could have seriously injured me!"

"Oh, come on, Professor, she was just an itty bitty first year. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you couldn't handle anything she might have dished out?"

"Miss Granger was diabolical, even then," Snape said with an injured sniff.

"Did you know it was Quirrell?"

"No, he was behind me. I could not see him. I sat near him purposely. In fact, I sat directly behind him, but he moved. I think I made him nervous. When I saw the trouble you were having, I knew that someone was hexing your broom, and rather than waste time looking around for the culprit, I began trying to keep you in the air. I always assumed it was Quirrell, but I had no proof."

"Did you ever share your suspicions with Dumbledore?"

"Many, many times."

"Why did he keep Quirrell around?"

Snape stared down at Harry for a moment, wondering if he could trust the boy with what he thought to be the truth. "Do you want the know what I honestly think?" he asked.

Harry looked confused. "Of course I do." He'd had enough of people lying to him or only telling him half the truth or only what they thought he needed to know.

"I believe the Headmaster knew exactly what Quirrell was up to and exactly who he was working for, although I do not believe that he knew that the Dark Lord was actually inhabiting the clueless idiot. I also believe that he knew what you and your little friends were up to, and not only did he not _dis_courage you, he actively assisted you in your plans. I think he wanted to see what you could do, see if you would prove yourself to be the little Gryffindor hero that he thought you could be."

"You think he set me up to take on Voldemort?" Harry asked, aghast. "An eleven-year old boy?"

Snape nodded. "I do."

"Just to see if I was – what? Brave enough?"

"Brave enough," Snape confirmed. "Strong enough. Stupid enough to be willing enough to sacrifice yourself for the cause."

"That's pretty cynical," Harry observed.

Snape shrugged. "It is my opinion. An opinion that I had reinforced with events that occurred in subsequent years."

Harry sat, remembering how pleased Dumbledore had seemed, when Harry lay in hospital recovering from his bout with Voldemort, that Harry had pieced together Nicolas Flamel's involvement in the big picture. Was it possible that Dumbledore, the Dumbledore whom he'd thought had been protecting him since his parents' deaths, had actually been training him, from a very tender age, to go up against the supreme evil that he was destined to face? Was that a kindness, he wondered, preparing him when he was still young enough to take his own mortality in stride, or was it cruel beyond even what the Dursleys had done to him, to risk his very life and sanity as some sort of incredible test when he was _eleven_?

"This disturbs you," Snape guessed. "The idea that the man you thought loved you would risk you in this way?"

"I know he loved me," Harry challenged. "We talked – after." Harry didn't detail after what. That would have detoured them too much from their current topic. "But I can't deny that he let me get away with a lot of things that were dangerous, to myself and to my friends. And it wasn't like he was just behind me, to catch me if I fell, most of the time. I'd jump in, flounder around for a bit, and then someone would arrive to help me, but not until after I'd had to defend myself with my very limited knowledge and magic. Hmm," Harry thought aloud, "perhaps you're right. Doesn't sound like a man whose only concern was my safety, does it? And I can't argue with the fact that all along, he was preparing for me to make the ultimate sacrifice of myself. Thank God the prophecy didn't state that I would have to become Voldemort's catamite in order to save the world. Perhaps he would have sold me into sexual slavery to prep me up."

"Really, Potter . . ." Snape said, thinking he should protest. He hadn't wanted the boy to completely lose any positive feelings he might have had left about Dumbledore. The man had been right, after all.

"Can you honestly think he wouldn't have, Professor, if it had been for the 'greater good'?" Harry challenged.

Snape sat back, because he knew that Potter was right. "No, I believe he would have. But he would have convinced you to do it yourself, so that it would be a self-sacrifice and not the offering up of a young virgin by an old man to a mad monster."

That thought made Harry feel very uncomfortable, and he strove for something to change the subject. "You met with Quirrell in the woods after that match."

"You know about that?" Snape asked, surprised.

"I followed you," Harry admitted. "On my broom. I thought you were threatening Quirrell so that you could get the stone for yourself, or that you were working together with him."

"You were wrong."

"Well I know that _now_!"

"You were an incredibly foolish boy," Snape noted.

"I still am!" Harry said heatedly. "About some things," he said, much more calmly.

Snape sighed. He thought they'd discussed this topic to death. "Do you want your story about your mother?"

"Yes, please."

"When our first year ended, Lily brought home a boxful of Chocolate Frogs. She was going to give them to her sister. She knew how much Petunia had wanted to go to Hogwarts, and being the soft-hearted twit she was, wanted to bring her something from school that Petunia could also enjoy. She gave them to her at the train station right after we got off the train. When she did, Tuney just turned her nose up at them, said she couldn't imagine why Lily would have thought that she would want something that 'abnormal.'" Harry could just hear his aunt sneering this word.

"Despite the fact that she'd made it plain that she didn't want them, Lily's stash of frogs kept dwindling, and she knew that her sister just had to be pilfering them. She was a little miffed that her offering had been turned aside so rudely, so she took one of the frogs out to the park, so she wouldn't be at home when she used magic against the rules, and charmed it so that when anyone ate it, they'd turn bright pink."

Harry smiled at his mother's mischievous streak. So he hadn't only inherited his talent for trouble from his father. "Did you help her?"

"She cast the charm," Snape said. "Although I did suggest the purple polka dots to go along with the pink skin. She returned the frog to the box with the others and then just waited."

"And eventually Aunt Petunia ate it?" Harry guessed.

"Of course she did," Snape confirmed. "She immediately turned a very lovely but unnatural shade of pink and sprouted purple polka dots over her entire body. Well, I assume it was over her entire body. That is what she claimed, but I certainly did not check to confirm her story. She, of course, knew what had happened, though Lily denied to her parents that she had done anything." At Harry's look, Snape said, "Oh, yes. She could lie very convincingly, your mother, when she had proper motivation. Another talent I'd say you inherited from both your parents."

"What did she tell her parents had happened? They must have known magic was the cause of the problem."

"She told them it was like finding the coin in the Christmas pudding: every box of Chocolate Frogs contained one that was charmed. Witches and wizards knew this, of course, and if they did not want to experience the effects of the charm, they could end the enchantment by biting the frog's right foot off first. Since Petunia had so blatantly said that she did not want the frogs, Lily hadn't thought it necessary to tell her about the charm. So, in actuality, it was Petunia's fault for stealing her sister's frog. Not only did Lily not get into trouble, she had the satisfaction of seeing her sister grounded for a week for taking things from her room without permission."

"How long did the charm last?"

"Your aunt was pink for about six days. For six days she refused to leave the house, and she would not talk to Lily for about six weeks after. I, myself, thought that was a reward, not a punishment. I'm quite sure Lily did as well, though she felt bad for upsetting her sister that much. Your mother always was too forgiving."

"Another trait I inherited from her?" Harry asked.

Obviously the boy had someone's gift of forgiving, or he wouldn't be sitting here talking genially with the man who had lived to torment him for six years. "You certainly didn't get it from your father." He and James were similar in that way: both could hold onto a grudge for years, for life in James' case. He'd died hating Severus Snape. Severus still couldn't forgive what James and his band of hooligans had done to him in school, though he no longer hated the man: he couldn't have any positive feelings for the boy sitting before him if he'd still despised the man who had spawned him. And he acknowledged to himself, now, that he did have positive feelings for the young man. Just what those feelings were, and the depth of them, was something he hadn't spent too much time figuring out, sure that the answer would complicate his life needlessly.

"That's a great story, sir," Harry said, smiling fondly. "I wish I could have seen Aunt Petunia. Did anyone get any pictures?"

"I told Lily that she should, but she was quite sure that Petunia would kill anyone who came within twenty meters of her with a camera. She may have been right. Petunia was _so very angry_," Snape said with obvious glee.

Well, he could imagine it just fine; he didn't need pictures, and Harry did so for a moment. When he'd had enough of the image, he turned back to his professor, who was still apparently caught up in the happy memory, because his eyes were closed and a small smile lingered on his lips. He looked completely relaxed, for the first time ever in Harry's memory.

Harry couldn't help but stare. When he was relaxed, Professor Snape's face looked very different. Gone were the stern crinkles around his eyes and on his forehead and the frown lines around his mouth. He was still pale, yes, and his nose hadn't gotten any smaller, but with a happy expression on his almost-always scowly face, he looked . . . approachable, friendly even. And a damn sight more attractive, though Harry wasn't sure where that thought had come from. He'd never thought another bloke attractive before. That was just . . . bizarre. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He'd noted in passing that other blokes were handsome: Cedric Diggory, Sirius before he went to Azkaban, even a young Tom Riddle. But he'd never wanted to stare at them like he wanted to stare now at his potions master. So he looked his fill, taking in every detail of the face before him: the thin pale lips, the eyelids fluttering gently, the dark eyelashes lying on the porcelain skin, the sharp chin and cheek bones, that nose, the bushy eyebrows, the high forehead framed by that hair that had always been the topic of conversation of Hogwarts students, those dark, bottomless eyes . . .

Oh, shite. Those eyes. Snape had opened his eyes and caught Harry staring at him. Immediately Harry felt a blush creeping across his cheeks and down his neck. He couldn't see himself, obviously, but he thought he was probably close to the shade of pink his aunt had been turned all those years ago. He thought he should try to explain. "I was . . . I was just . . ." But he had nothing, nothing that he wanted to share with the man anyway. He didn't think Professor Snape would appreciate it at all if Harry told him how he'd been admiring his features. That sort of attention from Harry Potter was probably the very last thing on the list of things Snape would want to have, right below a return of Voldemort, ingrown toenails, and hemorrhoids. "I should probably go," Harry finally struggled to say.

He wanted to stand up, to make a hasty escape, but then every mortified thought he'd just had multiplied exponentially when he realized that he was half hard in his jeans, and that if he stood up now, Snape was likely to notice. Just what the hell was going on here? He'd never felt like _this_ about another man. Noting in an offhand way that a bloke was attractive in a generic sort of way was entirely different than _getting a hard-on_ over one, wasn't it? He leaned forward, his hands on his thighs, exerting a painful pressure on his cock through his trousers, hoping that the pain would convince his wayward flesh to behave. It helped a little.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, concerned that perhaps something Harry had eaten for dinner had disagreed with him.

"Ugh. Yeah, I'm fine." He drew in a deep breath, squeezed himself one more time, painfully, and noted with relief that his erection had wilted completely under this unpleasant attention. "Fine," he said with more strength and conviction. "But I should probably go." Because I need a shrink. Or a whack upside the head. Or a good, hard wank.

"Do you wish to discuss setting up some laboratory time with me?"

Oh God. Laboratory time. With Snape. Just the two of them alone in the lab. Brewing stuff. Chopping stuff. Grinding stuff. Harry's annoying cock began to lift its head again at the thought of grinding, and he dropped his fist forcefully into his lap. Damn, that hurt! But it did the trick. "Oh, yes. Of course. When do you want me?" Wrong question! "I mean, when do you want me to come?" Also the wrong question! "I mean, when would be a convenient time for you to assist me with Potions? Professor Snape, sir?"

Snape watched the boy flounder with an amused expression on his face. He thought he knew what was wrong with the lad. He _was _still a teenager after all. And while he was stunned that Potter might have an interest in him _that _way, there'd been no mistaking the look of interest in Potter's eyes when he'd caught him staring. And the blush on his face, that deepened with every word out of his mouth, was enchanting. Add in the fact that he seemed to be having a little difficulty with something in his lap, and Snape thought he knew exactly what the young man's problem was. And because the new Snape was a merciful Snape, he decided to take pity on the struggling boy.

"I am free on Friday evenings. Would that be agreeable?"

"Yes!" Harry said quickly. Friday evenings were good. He had Friday evenings free. He could do Friday evenings. "Shall we begin this Friday?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"That is acceptable. Shall we say seven o'clock in the lab?"

"I'll be there," Harry said. He was quite sure that he'd be able to stand up very soon without embarrassing himself. Not quite yet, but fairly soon.

"I find I need something from my classroom, Mr. Potter, so I would ask that you let yourself out. Before you leave, I would suggest that you write our Friday appointments in your timetable so that you do not forget."

Like Harry was likely to forget.

Snape rose from his desk with a curt "Good night," and left Harry sitting there. Relieved that Snape had left first, Harry stood now, did a little jig in place to get himself under control, then slunk from his professor's office before any other embarrassing catastrophes could strike him.

From behind the closed door to his office, when he heard the outer door close after Harry's hasty exit, Severus gave in to the laughter that had been trying to erupt since he'd noticed the boy's discomfort and discerned the reason for it.

It appeared that Harry Potter had a little crush on Severus Snape. Was the boy even gay, he wondered? He hadn't thought so, but anything was possible with teenagers, right? It also appeared that the thought of liking his professor in that way was a little disconcerting to the young man. Oh, this could be interesting. Very interesting. Feeling better than he had in a very long time, Snape pushed himself up off the wall he'd collapsed against and retired to his rooms.


	7. Chapter 7

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Seven

Potter had been uncharacteristically subdued all night, Snape noted, watching the young man slice up the pile of shrivelfigs he'd been working on for the past half hour. Snape thought he could guess why: that awkward little scene in his office on Tuesday evening. Potter had let something slip, something that he knew Snape could use against him if he wished to. The old Snape would have done so, with a large amount of glee. This was information he could use to torment the boy in new and ugly ways, and he wouldn't have hesitated to do so in their past life together. But things had changed – they had _both_ changed, and Snape had no desire to torture anyone anymore. So he held his tongue and he simply . . . watched.

Potter held himself close, as though he expected an attack at any moment. He'd spoken only the minimum number of words required to his professor and looked ready to bolt if Snape so much as breathed too loudly. So he didn't breathe loudly, and he didn't make any sudden moves, and he stayed as far away from Potter as he could. As the evening wore on, he could sense a slight loosening of the boy's posture, but he was still much, much too tense.

"Are you nearly finished?" he finally asked, and despite the fact that he'd spoken as softly as possible to still be heard, the boy's shoulders jumped in reaction.

Harry's head came up, and his eyes flashed. "Am I not doing this fast enough?" he asked, clearly defensive.

Snape refused to answer in kind. "Your pace is of no concern," he said soothingly. "I merely inquired if you were nearly finished, as if you are, I will light the fire under this cauldron. If you are not, I will move on to something else until you are."

"This is the last one," Harry said, and he returned his attention to his work surface as he began quickly and efficiently slicing the last of the figs.

Snape moved to light the fire under the cauldron in question, then began to gather the remaining required ingredients, which Harry had prepared earlier. When he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Harry put his knife down, he turned to the distraught young man again. "Finished?" When Harry nodded, Snape requested, "Would you bring them here, please?"

He began putting the base ingredients into the cauldron as Harry approached, his cutting surface littered with finely sliced pieces of fig. Snape looked down and paused for a moment before saying, "That is very well done, Potter. I was right – you do have untapped potential."

Harry was pleased by the praise, though he really didn't want to be. He'd spent the last three days in complete confusion about what had happened in Snape's office on Tuesday evening. He didn't like blokes – he never had. So why he had felt so . . . interested . . . when he'd looked at Snape? He'd never thought that being gay was wrong or unnatural – he'd just never thought about it in the context of his own sexuality. And to have this happen with Snape, of all people, was just the topping on the ice cream sundae, wasn't it? If he was a normal teenager struggling with his sexual orientation, he'd have found himself attracted to someone roughly his own age, someone he might have a chance of exploring these new . . . interests with. But no, he was Harry Potter, and he had to do everything the hard way. He had to go and get _interested _in a man who was twice his age and who had actively hated his guts and everything else about him since before they'd even properly met. What was he, some kind of masochist?

And why was Snape being so nice to him tonight? A compliment, for Pete's sake. A compliment which made Harry's insides glow, though he tried to think about cold things to tamp that feeling down before he made an even bigger fool of himself. He'd really thought he needed this help with Potions, but being here now, when he was so lost in emotions and hormones and feelings, was nothing short of torture. He desperately needed Hermione – as difficult as it would be to talk to anyone about this confusion inside of him, he knew she would listen and provide thoughtful and practical advice. But she was gone, making a start on her new life, and the last thing she needed was for Harry to beg her to come back, whining about his stupid love life.

While Harry was anguishing over all of this, Snape had added the shrivelfigs to the cauldron and was stirring the concoction in a smooth, clockwise circle. He could almost hear the thoughts tumbling around in Harry's head, like several pairs of trainers in a Muggle clothes dryer, and finally he performed the ultimate act of mercy on the boy:

"Harry, we are finished here for the evening. Thank you for your assistance. I will see you on Tuesday evening, yes?"

Grateful green eyes came up to meet his, and Harry nodded. Without speaking, Harry grabbed his robe and hightailed it out of there.

Harry had decided to pretend that nothing had happened in this office last week, that all was right with his world. He smiled as brightly as he could at Professor Snape when he entered and sat quickly in his usual chair before the desk. After helping himself to tea and some of those delicious biscuits, Harry sat back and said, "So what are we up to now?"

Snape studied him for a moment. So the boy wants to pretend nothing happened, eh? We can do that. "Christmas, your first year."

Harry thought back. "I had presents!" he said happily.

"Was that not a common occurrence at Christmas?"

"Oh sure, if you consider coat hangers and pieces of lint and used socks Christmas presents. No, these were honest-to-goodness tidings of joy, given to me by people who actually liked me. It was amazing!"

Another glimpse into Potter's childhood, offered without Severus having to pry. He waited to see if the young man would offer anything further, and when he didn't, he said, "Dumbledore gave you that infernal cloak."

"That's right!" Harry said. He _had_ gotten his dad's cloak that Christmas. "With a note that said, 'Use it well.' Can you believe that?"

This was Albus Dumbledore they were talking about. Of course he could believe it. "And you began to get yourself into trouble with it immediately."

"Huh?"

"The Mirror of Erised?"

"Oh," said Harry. "Well, that was a mistake. I didn't set out to find it. I just sort of stumbled across it."

"While you were out after hours with that damned cloak!" Snape growled.

Harry smiled at the man's anger after all these years. "That was the first time I'd ever seen my family. Or what I thought my family _would _look like, I guess. Since I'd never seen my grandparents or other aunts or uncles or anything, I must have imagined that's what they would look like, if I had."

"That was your heart's desire?" Severus asked, surprised. A typical eleven year old boy must want lots of things he wasn't supposed to have. This particular eleven-year old wanted the one thing everyone is supposed to just possess by birth.

"Yeah, I saw my mum and dad and a bunch of other people standing around me. They all had my hair, or my eyes, or my knobbly knees, so I knew they were my family. It was like meeting them for the first time. I couldn't get enough of them."

"Until Dumbledore moved the mirror," Snape said. The Headmaster had told him, way back when, that he'd had to move the mirror because of Potter's growing obsession.

"And then I had to say goodbye again after having just met them," Harry remembered sadly. "Dumbledore told me that it wasn't good to dwell on things I couldn't have or live in the past or some other such lame advice. I asked him what he saw when he looked in the mirror, and you know what he said?"

Snape shook his head.

"Socks. He saw himself holding socks. I think he must have been part house-elf. Dobby had his same sense of style. Perhaps Dobby was his illegitimate house-elf son. Can humans mate with house-elves?"

"Potter, you have a very disturbed mind."

"I was asking because I actually wanted to know! Some weird shite goes on in the wizarding world. How am I to know who can mate with who? Humans and giants can apparently mate, right? Look at Hagrid."

"As far as I know," Snape said through gritted teeth, "there has never been a human, house-elf pairing. However, having said that, I would hesitate to say it has never happened because we have ample proof that there are some very depraved human beings in this world, and nothing would completely surprise me."

"There are probably depraved house-elves, too, don't you think?" Harry asked. "They'd probably think it was depraved of one of their own if he had sex with a human."

"Can we move off the topic of house-elf sex, please?" Snape requested. "I do not wish to have disturbing dreams tonight."

Harry laughed. "Sure, Professor. Would you rather talk about human sex?" Harry's jaw dropped as soon as the words had left his mouth. He could not _believe_ he had just said that. So much for pretending that everything was normal – the blush he was now sporting put paid to that plan.

Snape was amused at the boy's obvious discomfort, and he couldn't resist asking, his voice low and suggestive, "Is there anything specific you'd like to talk about?"

Harry was sure his blush now went all the way to his feet. "Er . . . no, sir. I was . . . I didn't . . . that's . . . I have Charms homework I need to finish. I think I should be going now."

Snape chuckled loudly, and if Harry hadn't been so panicked and mortified, he would have stopped at the marvel of Snape laughing. As it was, he couldn't get out of there quickly enough, and he bolted to his feet and toward the door.

"Your mother's favorite food was chocolate cake with peanut butter icing!" Snape called after the fleeing boy.

Their brewing had been quiet tonight, with only the necessary amount of words spoken. Potter still seemed unwilling to get too close to him or to say anything beyond "yes, sir" and "how's this, sir?" While Snape found the reason for the boy's discomfort somewhat amusing, he was quickly growing tired of spending time with someone who exuded nervousness the way Potter was.

When they reached the point where the brew they were working on needed to sit for thirty minutes, Snape requested tea and those biscuits that he'd noticed Potter especially liked from the house elves and nodded his head toward the tray, indicating that his young assistant should help himself. Potter did, but he didn't offer any small talk, as he normally would.

"Is everything all right, Potter?" Snape asked with quiet concern.

"Huh?" Harry said, his green eyes flashing quickly up to meet Snape's, then just as quickly looking back down at his tea. "What do you mean?"

"You have been out of sorts for some time now," Snape said. "I just wondered if something was wrong. Perhaps you are having a difficult time on your own, now that you are without both Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?"

"No, it's not that," Harry said. "I do miss them, but . . . no."

"Is it something that I could help you with?" Snape offered, wondering if Potter would be able to confess what he was struggling with, to Snape of all people.

"Um, I appreciate the offer," Harry said. Even though Potter was not looking at him, Snape could tell the young man was blushing. "But it's . . . something I have to work out on my own."

"All right. But if you would like someone to talk to, you know where to find me."

Harry looked up again and smiled shyly. "I guess so. I'm here all the time!"

"You do seem to have become part of my decor."

"Does it bother you, sir?" Harry asked, concern etched into his features. "That I'm here so much? I always thought you must be a terribly private person. Maybe having someone here, me especially, disturbs you, and you're just too polite to say anything."

"Mr. Potter," Snape said sternly, setting his tea cup down with a _thud_. "Have you ever known me to be too polite to speak my mind?"

Harry grinned into his cup. "No, sir."

"Well, then. Rest assured that if your presence in my immediate vicinity was not desired, you would not be here."

"Thank you, sir. This . . . it helps. I don't really have anything in common with any of the other students, and if I didn't have you to talk to, I think I'd go mad."

"We wouldn't want that, would we? We can't have our saviors going 'round the twist from boredom. Though there are probably those that will think you have because of your association with me."

"I don't care what anybody thinks," Harry said with a defiant lifting of his chin. "It's my life. I will live it as I please. I've had enough sacrifice to last me the rest of my lifetime."

"Well spoken. Now, if you have finished with your refreshment, you might begin chopping up the liver that is marinating in the preserving fluid."

Harry gulped down the last of his biscuit. "Well, if I wasn't done before, I certainly am now," he said, only half joking. "Chopped or sliced?"

"Oh, pulverized is the only way to go with liver, Mr. Potter," Snape said with an evil smile, amused at Harry's grimace of disgust. "Just think of someone you dislike as you grind away with the pestle.'

"I don't think there's anyone left alive that I dislike that much."

"Hmm. Not even Dolores Umbridge?"

"Okay. Maybe her," said Harry with a grin.

They both turned to the door as it opened. Draco Malfoy stood looking at them, his gaze speculative and suspicious.

Malfoy watched the grin fall from Potter's face with something that looked like guilt or maybe embarrassment taking its place. What were the two of them doing in here? Alone? With tea and biscuits?

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said sternly. "It is customary to knock before one just barges past a closed door, is it not?"

"It's your lab," Malfoy retorted with no attempt to sound as though he was sorry. "It's a classroom. Open to anyone who wants it. Were you doing something for which you required privacy?"

"Simply brewing," Snape said with an eyebrow raised at the young man's boldness.

"With Potter?" Malfoy spit the word out contemptuously.

Harry's eye went back and forth, watching the participants in this weird conversation that contained several undertones that Harry wasn't emotionally cognizant enough to parse out. They were talking over him and about him, as though he wasn't even there. He shrugged and got up to begin the disgusting job of smooshing up livers.

"Is there something that you wanted?" Snape asked Malfoy, unwilling to justify to the rude young man his choice of brewing companion.

"I wanted to speak with you, sir," he said, suddenly at least attempting to sound polite.

"So speak."

Draco's eyes flickered to Potter, who had turned his back on both of them. "I'll wait until you're not . . . _brewing_." He put a nasty emphasis on the word, as though he'd caught them screwing over a lab table instead of sitting and eating biscuits with a work surface between them.

"Suit yourself," Snape said with an unconcerned shrug. Whatever was going on with the Malfoy scion, he'd best get over it quickly. Snape wouldn't put up with outright insolence, not from a student, not if he didn't _have _to. And he didn't _have _to any longer.

Malfoy stood there, glaring daggers at both of them, until Snape said, "If there's nothing further, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, sir," Malfoy said through clenched teeth, and he turned around and left the room, leaving the door open. Severus waited at least a minute before flicking his wand at the door to close it again. He heard Harry let out a whoosh of air over his ground liver.

"Problem, Mr. Potter?"

"No. Tension got a little thick, that's all. I thought perhaps he was going to start throwing hexes."

"You needn't worry about Mr. Malfoy," Snape said with more certainty than he felt. "He will not risk finding himself in a cell next to his father. Now how is that liver coming? It is almost time to add it."

Harry looked down at the brown gloopy mess in his mortar. "It looks . . . wonderful, Professor."

The following day, Harry obtained the Headmistress' permission to leave Hogwarts for Diagon Alley. What he wanted could not be found in Hogsmeade.

Later that night, he found himself tapping on the door to Severus Snape's office. He wasn't expected here, to be sure, but as much as his feelings for the man frightened him on many levels, he couldn't seem to stay away. He knocked again, then began to wonder if the man might not be in. What did Snapes do on a Saturday night? Did they go out? Did they date? This thought disturbed Harry more than a little. Still, he knocked one more time. If he didn't get an answer this time, he would go back to his lonely room and . . . study or something equally uninteresting.

Finally, just as Harry was about to give up, the door was opened, and a causally-dressed Severus Snape opened the door.

"Potter! What are you doing here on a Saturday evening?"

"I went into London today, sir. I wanted to show you what I got."

Snape stared down at him, studying him for a moment. "And this couldn't wait until our next session?"

Harry's shoulders slumped a bit in disappointment. "Well, it could," Harry confessed. "But I didn't . . . Oh," Harry said as the thought occurred to him that Snape just might have his . . . _date _. . . in his quarters. Perhaps she (or he) was waiting even now for Snape to get rid of whatever pesky student was demanding his attention and return so that they could get back to . . . whatever they'd been doing. Harry felt his face turn red. "I'm sorry, sir. You're busy. I . . . I can come back . . ." Never, thought Harry. I can never come back. I can just stay away and hopefully stop making such a complete and utter fool of myself, as I seem to do whenever I am in your presence.

"You're here," Snape said with a small sigh. "You may as well come in."

"Oh . . . okay," Harry said, following Snape into his office. The man didn't stop however; he pushed his way through the door behind his desk and disappeared. Harry stopped just inside the door. Was he supposed to follow Snape back there? Was he supposed to wait here while the man put his robes on? Harry didn't especially want him to put his robes on. The clothes he was wearing, while not exactly in a Muggle style, were much more . . . revealing than the clothing he was used to seeing his potions master wear. Harry quite liked it.

He'd apparently dithered there long enough for Snape to return, and the grouchy face poked around the door. "Are you coming or not?"

Harry jumped a little and began to move. "Oh, yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

He followed Snape through the door and entered what Harry knew must be Snape's private quarters. He felt somewhat honored to be allowed back here. He assumed (hoped, really) that Snape didn't let just any student back here. He looked around in appreciation, not so much because the furnishings were all that fine (Harry knew he himself had absolutely no sense of style when it came to decorating and certainly couldn't judge another's taste) but because he'd been allowed into Snape's private domain. He stood there with a happy little smile on his face, just soaking in the aura.

"Was there something you wanted to show me?" Snape asked, wondering if the boy had ingested any illegal substances while in London. He looked more than a little . . . odd.

"Yes, there was," Harry said. From inside his robe, where he'd been hiding it, he drew out his hand and extended it toward Snape. In his palm sat a tiny black kitten with a patch of white on its chest.

"You've found yourself a friend," Snape said, smiling just a bit himself. He couldn't help it – the kitten was just about the cutest thing he'd seen in ages. "Or are you perhaps making an offering for my next potion?"

Harry drew his hand back quickly. "No! She's not a potion ingredient!" He noticed Snape's smirk now. "You berk! I thought you meant it!"

"Of course I did not mean it," Snape said. "Let me see."

Harry was hesitant. Snape wouldn't actually – would he? Not while Harry was standing here, at any rate, so he relented and held the kitten out again.

Snape removed the scrap of black fur and held her up to his face to examine her. "She's a fine specimen. Kneazle?"

"She's part kneazle, part cat sith. But she's also got metamorphmagus abilities."

Snape looked up at Harry in astonishment. "Is that even possible?"

Harry grinned proudly, like he'd had something to do with his new familiar's amazing abilities. "Yes. I saw it. She turned pink when she was sleepy and blue when she was hungry."

Snape studied the kitten more closely. "I should like to see this for myself."

"Well, she sleeps a lot, so if you're around her for any length of time, I'm sure you'll be able to."

"Sit down," Snape said, his eyes only on the kitten in his hand, his curiosity aroused. He'd see this transformation tonight.

Harry seated himself on the settee before the fire, while Snape settled in the armchair. He placed the kitten on the floor, and she began to explore her new surroundings.

"Have you named her?"

"Yes. Her's name's Dora," Harry said softly.

"After Nymphadora?" Snape guessed.

Harry nodded. He missed Tonks and Remus so much he positively ached with it at times.

They sat in silence, remembering their fallen comrades and watching the fading fire, until Harry suddenly whispered, "Look!"

Dora had tired of chasing a reflection of the firelight on the carpet and was sprawled on her side on the carpet, staring into the fire, her little side vibrating with the force of her purr. As the two men watched, her fur began to lighten, its dark hue becoming a light pink, then a more vibrant shade as she curled herself into a tight ball and slipped completely into sleep.

"Amazing," Snape noted. "And you say she turned blue as well?"

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, as though a baby were sleeping. "I haven't seen her angry or scared yet, so maybe she's got other colors as well. Isn't she something?"

"She is indeed," Snape agreed. He'd never seen anything quite like it.

"Well," Harry said, sitting up from his fire-induced lassitude. "I really should let you get back to . . . whatever you were doing." Apparently that was not . . . fraternizing in any kind of way with a woman. Or a man. To Harry's relief.

He stood up and scooped the kitten off the carpet. As she woke and blinked herself awake, her fur began to darken again, though it never really returned to its pre-sleep color as the kitten didn't come totally awake. Instead, she curled up again in Harry's hands, still purring.

"I was only reading," Snape said. He stood as well. "Thank you for bringing her to show me." He reached out to pat the kitten. Because she was so small, and Snape's hands were so large, he couldn't help but touch Potter's hand underneath. Harry's startled eyes jumped to catch Snape's, and they looked at each other for long moments. Harry's stomach felt as though he'd missed a step going downstairs, and he could feel his heart beginning to accelerate to double its normal rhythm.

"I will see you on Tuesday?" Snape asked softly as he pulled his hand away, breaking the spell that had been cast.

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. Tuesday. Good night."

It took a considerable amount of strength for Harry to turn and leave the room without his knees buckling. As soon as he was in the hallway, he staggered against the wall, clutching Dora to his chest protectively so as not to drop her. What was _that_?


	8. Chapter 8

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Eight

"How is your new familiar settling in?" Snape asked at their next regular session.

"Oh, fine," Harry said. "She already thinks she owns the place. I would have brought her down with me tonight, but she was off somewhere, stalking mice likely."

Snape thought Harry looked happier than he had since Granger had matriculated out. He found himself glad for anything that would make the young man look a little more carefree. Certainly the biscuits Potter seemed to favor brought a smile to his lips as well. He watched as Harry helped himself to the treats on the tray and a cup of tea.

"So," Harry said, sitting back. "We talked about Christmas last time. And the mirror. Which reminds me, there was something I wanted to ask you." Before I ran out of here like a blushing fool. "Did you ever look in the mirror?"

Snape looked uncomfortable at this question. "I did, once, briefly."

"What did you see?"

"Perhaps you'd rather not know."

"How bad could it be?" Harry mused. "You didn't see yourself with a house-elf, right?" he teased, remembering what they'd talked about the last time he was here.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Oh," Harry said, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Did you see you and . . . my mother?"

After a moment, Snape nodded. "I did." He'd seen himself and Lily, standing side by side and holding hands. Three children surrounded them, three children with Lily's hair and eyes. None of them looked like this boy sitting before him now.

"Were you happy?" Harry asked, his voice little more than a whisper at the somewhat disturbing thought that this man who he'd developed an unlikely attraction for had been so attached to Harry's own mother that his most heartfelt desire was to be with her.

Snape had indeed looked very happy in the vision. No stress lines about his face, no gray hair. He'd actually been smiling at his Lily and the children who surrounded them. "Yes."

Harry's heart dropped just a little. Snape wasn't gay. Harry had no shot. Not that he'd really thought he had a shot anyway, but some small hopeful part of him had persisted in thinking that if he ever got up the nerve to tell his imposing Potions master that he wanted something . . . more from him, the man might not be totally averse, if Harry showed him he could be a mature, responsible, _adult_ person. Harry guessed he'd imagined all those little touches and looks that had felt like more than a mere meeting of the eyes or brush of hands. What an idiot he was. And he was really, really thankful that he hadn't said anything to Snape to demonstrate to the man just how much of a simpleton he really was.

Harry sighed a little. Well, maybe they could be friends, anyway. Maybe with the passage of time and the easing of the ache that had set up residence in his heart in the last few moments, he and Snape could explore a friendship. He _did_ like talking to the man – he was very bright and experienced in lots of area of life and magic, and funny in a biting, sarcastic kind of way. If friendship was all he could have, he was pathetic enough to accept it.

He tried to put a brave smile on his face and looked up at Snape. "So what's next?"

Snape looked at Harry across the desk, aware that something inside the boy had . . . shifted since he'd walked in here. With no idea what it could be, Snape decided to just move along with what they were here for. Perhaps the source of Potter's unrest would reveal itself as they talked. "Well, the next thing of significance would be my brief stint as Quidditch referee."

Harry had to smile at that memory. "That was a great day, wasn't it? Oliver was really freaking out when he heard you were going to be the referee. We were all so afraid that you were going to be your usual unfair and biased self. Which, of course, you were."

Snape sniffed. "I called them as I saw them."

"Through your anti-Gryffindor-colored glasses," Harry challenged.

Snape shrugged in acknowledgment of this statement. "I think I was as pleased as you were that you caught the snitch so quickly."

"Desperation is the mother of motivation," Harry misquoted.

"And then we must discuss a certain rumor that there was a dragon at Hogwarts."

"Norbert," Harry said.

"So it is true?"

"Dumbledore never told you? I thought sure he must have known."

"I have no doubt that the old man knew. He did not, however, share the information with me. I was privy only to the wild gibbering of Draco Malfoy when he'd been caught out after curfew. I, of course, did not believe him."

"It was true. Hagrid had gotten the dragon's egg from some bloke he played cards with at the Hogs Head. Shady sounding, all of it, but Hagrid had wanted a dragon forever, and when presented with the opportunity, what little judgment he actually possesses when it comes to dangerous creatures went right out the dirty window. We figured out later that it had all been a set-up. The 'stranger' Hagrid met in the pub was none other than Quirrell, in disguise, to get information about Fluffy. Which Hagrid, of course, gave him.

"We were there when Norbert hatched," Harry reminisced. "He was so ugly he was cute. And he breathed fire right from the start. Hagrid didn't see the problem with keeping a fire-breathing dragon in his _wooden_ hut. He grew _so fast_. Damned thing bit Ron, too. Made his hand swell up like a balloon, and still Hagrid didn't see anything wrong with keeping it."

"But you convinced him, you and your friends?"

"We finally made him see reason that Norbert himself was better off with his own kind, in a place where he could be free to roam and fly. If it hadn't been better for Norbert, Hagrid would probably have refused any kind of intervention."

"Where did the dragon go?"

"Charlie Weasley, you know him?" Snape nodded. "He sent a couple of friends to Hogwarts. Hermione and I dragged the cursed dragon up to the top of the tower, and they met us there on broomsticks and took him away. That was the night we were caught out after curfew, along with Draco. We would have been all right if we hadn't forgotten to wear the Invisibility Cloak coming down from the tower. Stupid mistake, really."

"Longbottom was not with you? I believe he was also caught out?"

"No. Poor Neville. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least you can't argue that we weren't punished that time. We each lost fifty points and had to serve the detention from hell. Plus, everyone in our house hated us and wouldn't talk to us for weeks."

"You just kept jumping from one dangerous situation to another."

"Hey, I didn't send myself into the Forbidden Forest to track down something that was killing unicorns, did I?" Harry asked indignantly.

"No, that was all the Headmaster," Snape said, his tone conveying his disbelief that the man had sent four nominally-trained first-years into a place that was dangerous at the best of times, but which also currently had something evil enough to kill unicorns lurking in it, with a man whose judgment was clearly lacking, a man who hadn't even known enough to keep the group together, splitting them into two and sending eleven-year olds off into the forest _by themselves_. It was a wonder, really, that any of them had made it out of there alive. He'd known immediately when he'd heard what happened that the Headmaster had allowed the entire escapade to proceed unchecked, as some kind of test of Harry's ability. If the boy had been killed that night in the forest, where would they all be now? Potter could have been killed at any one of the many steps along his road to fulfilling the prophecy, merely because Dumbledore had let the boy have his reckless head. The sheer stupidity of it still amazed Snape. Everything had been riding on the boy – _everything_. Dumbledore knew that and still he used the boy, time after time, apparently arguing to himself that it was for the greater good, that Harry needed to learn, that Dumbledore needed to know just how stupidly brave he was, how far the boy would be willing to go toward sacrificing himself to that greater good. Because, in the end, the ultimate sacrifice was going to be required of Potter. What didn't make any sense to Snape was that if the boy had successfully sacrificed himself prior to Dumbledore's destruction of the horcruxes, because he'd been allowed time and time again to put himself in dangerous situations, they'd all have been doomed.

Apparently Dumbledore's faith in Potter's abilities had not been misplaced, because here they all sat, in a world free of Voldemort, the deed done by the most unlikely looking boy sitting before him. Man – Potter hadn't been a boy for a long time.

Harry had sat quietly while Snape worked all these thoughts through his mind, not sure what had the man so obviously worked up. Finally the older man looked down at the younger one.

"I think we'll talk about the forest next time." He'd had enough remembering for one night.

"All right, sir," Harry said, standing up. "What can you tell me about my mum?"

"Her favorite ice cream flavor was mint chocolate chip. There was a shop round the corner from her house that sold it. Her parents took us there several times a week in the summer. She wouldn't even consider another flavor – it was always mint chocolate chip."

Huh. That was disappointing – Harry detested mint. His own personal favorite was strawberry, though he liked coffee ice cream and chocolate as well. He'd like to be able to share in one more thing that his mother liked. Oh well. Had she been alive today, they likely wouldn't agree on everything, would they? Decidedly not. Harry smiled still at this small piece of his mum that was his now. "What was your favorite flavor, Professor?" he found himself asking. Not because he craved information about this man, though, right? Just because _friends_ knew that sort of information about each other.

Snape hadn't had ice cream in a cone in a very long time."I was more partial to the basic flavors – vanilla, chocolate. But strawberry was probably my favorite."

Potter closed his eyes briefly, almost wincing as though this particular piece of information caused him pain. Snape noticed and thought it strange.

"Hmm," he said, opening his large green eyes. "Thank you, sir. I'll see you on Friday night." And he slipped out the door and was gone.

Potter was still holding himself aloof from his teacher, Snape noted. He'd been that way at their Friday night potions lesson as well – half as talkative as he normally was, open and polite, but not friendly, very careful with the 'sirs' and 'Professors.' Those green eyes, always so expressive, spoke of a wounding that had gone soul-deep, though Severus didn't know what he could have done to the boy to cause that sort of hurt. He'd not been his pre-defeat-of-Voldemort snide, sarcastic self with Potter; he hadn't said anything hurtful about the boy or his father, he hadn't belittled Potter's potions skills or his intelligence, he hadn't insulted Weasley or Granger in so long he couldn't remember when he'd last done so.

This quiet young man was not the Harry Potter he had grown accustomed to over the last two months, and he sort of missed the more gregarious Potter, surprised though he was to admit it.

Still, he had some inkling what the boy was grappling with, and he couldn't bring it up without embarrassing both of them, or making Potter think that he was interested in something that was inappropriate for a whole host of reasons. Not that he wasn't interested, in the most hypothetical sense – Potter was quite attractive, and he was now a fully-fledged adult wizard. Were he not Potter's teacher, were Potter someone Snape had met in a pub, say, he would have approached Potter without hesitation, damn the difference in their ages. But he _was_ Potter's teacher, and any sort of liaison between them would be wrong. There was no getting around that fact, not until Potter had tested his way out of here. After that . . . Well, after that, Potter would be flung into the big, bad world to find his way, and that way would likely include people . . . lovers . . . his own age. Not someone twenty years his senior who'd gone to school with his _parents_, for Merlin's sake.

"Sir, are you all right?" he heard Potter ask, breaking him from his reverie. Unbeknownst to him, he'd been sitting and staring into space for many minutes, as long as Potter had been sitting in front of his desk.

Snape sat up straight, gathering himself physically and mentally. "Yes, yes. Of course. Just woolgathering. We were to talk about your sojourn into the forest, I believe?"

"Yes, sir," Potter said, still subdued. "Voldemort was there. You know that, though. You know he was like, living a half life or something. He was drinking the blood from a unicorn. It was . . . disgusting. And sad. The poor dead thing. Something so pure and beautiful, to die so that that . . . evil could remain."

"Was the Dark Lord aware of your presence?" Snape had never heard all of the story. Dumbledore had told him only what the mastermind wizard thought he needed to know.

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a shiver. "He knew I was there. He came for me. If it hadn't been for Firenze . . ."

Snape had known that the centaur's timely intervention had prevented certain tragedy. "He drove the Dark Lord off?"

"He put himself between me and Voldemort," Harry confirmed. "Then he gave me a ride back to Hagrid and the others."

Snape considered this for a moment. "You have had a remarkable life. You have ridden on the back of a centaur, a thestral, and a dragon. Any one of these events a normal wizard would go his entire life without experiencing."

"You forgot a hippogriff."

Snape stared at him in disbelief. "A hippogriff as well?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, sir," Harry nodded. "When Hagrid took over Care of Magical Creatures in my third year, he introduced us to them and sort of . . ." _forced _wasn't the right word, ". . . convinced me to ride one." Harry didn't mention that he'd ridden Buckbeak again, the night Sirius had escaped from Snape's clutches. They'd have to talk about that eventually, he knew, but he didn't think he could take an angry Snape tonight.

Snape shook his head. "Amazing."

Harry snorted. "Just circumstances, Professor," he said. "Nothing to do with me, really."

"Don't," Snape said firmly. "You have had a remarkable life because you are a remarkable young man." They might not be destined for a future together, but Severus wouldn't hesitate to let Potter know what he thought of him . . . what he _really_ thought of him, now that the war was done and they didn't have to pretend.

Harry looked at him, surprised and pleased by the words of praise. He blushed and looked down again quickly with a shrug.

Snape pressed on. He wouldn't hesitate to praise Potter if he deserved it, but he was not going to bury the boy with it. "Do you wish to get into your attempts to obtain the Sorcerer's Stone tonight?"

Harry really didn't. That would take a while, and being in Snape's presence now tired him out so. He didn't really understand it, but whenever he was with Snape, it seemed like so much of his energy went into hiding exactly what it was he felt for this man and what he wanted from him, if given the chance to ask for it.

He slumped a little in his chair. "We should probably wait for next time, sir. That will take a while to get through, I think." He pushed himself upright and stood up. "Good night, Professor." A month ago, two weeks ago, Harry would have kept talking, searching for a way to stay in this man's presence as long as reasonably possible. Now, however, he was exhausted and wanted only to find his bed and fall into it.

It wasn't until minutes after Potter had left that Snape realized that he'd never shared a memory of Lily.

Potter was not at dinner, Snape noted on Friday evening. That in itself was not unusual – all of the eighth years frequently took advantage of the privilege of eating in their rooms. But Snape took note, as he always did. He also took note that an owl suddenly appeared in the Great Hall, flew straight for him, and dropped a small scroll of parchment beside his plate.

He picked it up, unrolled it, and immediately recognized Potter's untidy scrawl.

_I am sorry, Professor, but I will be unable to make it to our potions practice tonight. I apologize if I have inconvenienced you in any way._

_Harry Potter_

Snape immediately became concerned. Was Potter ill? Was the boy so upset by his feelings that he was going to avoid Snape, except when strictly necessary, from here forward? Snape did not think he could allow that to stand were that the case. Suddenly no longer hungry for the trifle he'd spooned onto his plate, Snape stood up and left the Great Hall briskly. His departure through the Entrance Hall was halted by a flash of black fur in a corner. Dora, Potter's cat, was pouncing on a leaf that had blown in through the castle doors. Seeing an opportunity, Snape scooped the little beast into one large hand and began to ascend the marble staircase.

He hesitated in the hallway leading to the eighth years' dormitory. Should he knock? As a staff member, wasn't he entitled to just march in? He felt awkward, but he pushed the door open to the roomy common room that Hogwarts' oldest students shared. He was spotted immediately by Susan Bones, so it was to her that Snape addressed his inquiry.

"Is Potter about, Miss Bones? I have something that belongs to him," he said, lifting the kitten by way of explanation.

"Harry? No, sir."

"Do you happen to know his whereabouts?"

"Yes, sir. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were here late this afternoon. He went into Hogsmeade with them for dinner."

"Ah." So Potter wasn't ill. That was good. He was merely spending time with the friends he missed so much. That was also good. "All right, then. Thank you, Miss Bones. I shall just . . . leave this, then." He placed the kitten on the back of a sofa, turned with as much dignity as he could muster (which was quite a lot), and left the way he had come.

Tucked in a corner across the room, hidden from Severus' line of sight, Draco Malfoy's gray eyes narrowed at the uncharacteristic way Snape had acted. What kind of pretense was that for seeing Potter – a kitten? Cats wandered the castle all the time, and no one was ever concerned enough about them to return them to their owners. Something was going on here, and Draco did not like it one little bit.

Snape wouldn't admit to a feeling of relief, the following day, when he spotted Potter at the Gyffindor v. Hufflepuff quidditch match, and then again at the Halloween feast, sitting with the Gryffindor seventh years. But he did admit to himself that Potter looked happier than he had in some time. Perhaps because he was sitting so close to that Weasley girl. So close they were actually touching, shoulder to shoulder and head to head as they shared a laugh. Looking at those heads, he couldn't help but be reminded of James Potter and Lily Evans, all those years ago. When he growled suddenly, he actually caused Professor Vector, sitting beside him, to jump and squeak just a little.


	9. Chapter 9

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Nine

"You left here last time without the memory of your mother," Snape said as soon as Harry had walked into his office for the regular Tuesday night meeting. "Her favorite subject in school was Charms. Now, we are up to . . ."

"Sir, is everything all right?" Harry interrupted. "You seem a little . . . angry."

"Me? Angry?" he asked, like such a thing was impossible. "Why would I be angry?" Just because that little harpy was hanging all over you. Why would that make me angry?

"Sorry, sir," Harry said contritely. "I just wondered if I'd done something to upset you."

"What on earth could you have done to upset _me_?"

"Why are you answering my questions with questions? Sir."

Snape glared at him, then said, "I trust you had an enjoyable time with your friends on Friday last."

"Oh, yes," Harry said warmly. "It was really good to see them again." A thought occurred to him. "Is that why you're upset, sir? Because I canceled our potions lesson?"

"Why would that upset me?

"There you go again," Harry pointed out. "I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you. It was a last minute thing. Ron was able to get away from work, and we just met in the Three Broomsticks."

"It is no matter," Snape said, seemingly not appeased by the explanation and apology. "And did Miss Weasley accompany you?"

"Ginny?" Harry asked, confused. "No. She was doing something with that Ravenclaw bloke she's been seeing. Why would you ask that?"

"No reason," Snape said haughtily. So the Weasley chit was stirring cauldrons with both hands, was she? "As I was about to say, we are set to discuss your unbelievably reckless decision to go after the stone."

Harry felt the waves of hostility rolling off Snape, but he had no idea as to what could have caused it. What had he done? Was this merely because he'd canceled one stupid potions lesson? Why would that bother Snape so? "Yeah. We learned that Dumbledore had left the castle, and we just knew that whoever was going to make an attempt on the stone would do it that night."

"'Whoever'?" Snape sneered. "You mean you thought _I_ was going to make an attempt on the stone."

"Yes," Harry admitted. There wasn't any point in lying about it. He'd been convinced that it was Snape. The only thing he hadn't been sure of was whether Snape wanted the stone for himself, or if he was attempting to get it for Voldemort.

"So the three of you snuck out of your house in the dead of night . . ."

"Well, no, wait a minute. We tried to tell McGonagall what we thought was going on. She wouldn't listen to us. She's the one who told us that Dumbledore was gone. And we didn't 'sneak' out of common room very well, because Neville tried to stop us."

"Longbottom?" Snape sneered again. "Couldn't have been much of a challenge to get by that great lump."

Harry stared at Snape. Responding to the man's attempts to rile him weren't going to get them anywhere, and he was determined to let them go. "Not for Hermione," he said. "She petrified him, and we went down to the third floor corridor."

"Where you encountered a three-headed dog."

"Yes, but we already knew that we needed music to make it go to sleep. I'd brought the flute Hagrid gave me for Christmas, and after Fluffy went to sleep, we jumped down through the trap door. Landed on Devil's Snare. If Hermione hadn't been there, Ron and I would likely still be stuck down there."

"Sounds like Granger did most of the thinking on this little expedition," Snape observed, his lip curled in disdain.

"I've never claimed otherwise," Harry said quietly. "Do you really want to hear this, Professor? Because it seems like you don't."

Snape made a rolling motion with his hand, telling Harry to get on with it. Harry sighed and did.

"Okay, so we got past the Devil's Snare. Then we got to the room of keys. Looking back, it seems rather a pointless way to safeguard a door. Not only was the key in the room with the door, but the means for catching the key was there as well. And there were _three _broomsticks. Why not just stick the key in the lock and be done with it?" Harry was amazed that this had not occurred to him before. If you _really _wanted keep someone from going through a door, you would not put the key within easy reach. Three _eleven-year olds_ had managed to catch it and use it. What kind of protective device was that against a full-grown, fully-trained Dark wizard? "Do you think that was another of Dumbledore's 'tests'?"

Snape shrugged, impressed that the boy had worked that out by himself, but still seething inside and unwilling to engage in any actual civil dialogue yet.

Harry shook his head at the man's continued bad humor. "After the key was the chess game. That was amazingly brilliant. Ron's the one who got us across that room. He's really good at chess."

"Did you contribute anything to the endeavor at all, Potter?" Snape asked meanly.

Harry looked at the other man closely. Had he been drinking? Did that explain that inexplicable animosity he had suddenly developed? Perhaps he was a belligerent drunk. But Harry didn't think Snape had been drinking – he showed none of the usual signs. His speech was as sharp and cutting as ever, his eyes were clear, his memory was certainly intact. No, he was just apparently in a really foul mood for reasons known only to himself.

"Ron was knocked out when he sacrificed himself so that we could end the game. Quirrell had already knocked out the troll," Harry went on, his voice hard, finally tiring of Snape's bad temper. "And then, of course, we came to your potions puzzle."

"Which I am positive that Miss Granger solved."

Harry nodded in acknowledgment. He'd never claimed not to need his friends, that night or at any other time in his life. "She did. There was only enough potion to go forward for one person, so we decided that she would go back and help Ron and owl Dumbledore, and I would go forward to try and get the stone. Which _I_ did." Harry couldn't help but put the emphasis on that word, stung that Snape apparently thought he'd had _nothing _to do with their efforts that night.

"Yes, brainless bravery being your forte," Snape agreed.

"Look, I don't know what I did to upset you, but if you tell me what it is, I'll apologize so we can move on!"

"What makes you think you have the power to upset me, Potter?" Snape spit out.

"Fine," Harry said, standing up abruptly. "Maybe we can do this next week. Or maybe you'd prefer that we not do it at all!"

Snape realized suddenly that he'd been trying to push the boy's buttons all night, and now that he had, he was a bit remorseful. He hadn't wanted Potter so angry that he left. He'd only wanted – what? To work out some of the anger he'd been feeling since he'd seen the Weasley chit draping herself all over Potter. He did _not _want to try to puzzle out _why _he felt this anger, but he wasn't in the habit of lying to himself. If he was, he would come up with some other reason why he was angry that had nothing to do with Harry Potter. But he wouldn't do that, not to himself. He was angry because he was jealous. Which he had no right to be. At all. Potter was a student. Potter was not _his_. He had every right to accept attention from anyone he wanted, and to return that attention if that was his desire. But knowing that did not make the jealousy go away, nor the anger that attended it. But if he wasn't careful, he would say something tonight that would send Harry – _Potter _– away forever.

"Sit down," he said gruffly. "I apologize. I am somewhat out of sorts today. But that is not your fault, and I should not be taking it out on you. Tell me about your run-in with Quirrell."

Only slightly mollified, Harry sat back down. "I thought I'd find _you_ there," he said with some little satisfaction. "But it was Quirrell. He said he hoped he'd be seeing me. Like he knew I was going to follow him. We talked about you. He told me that you'd saved my life at that Quidditch match, when he tried to throw me off my broom. He said that you were protecting me when you refereed the next match. Then he tied me up.

"He was examining the Mirror, trying to figure out how to work it. This voice came out of nowhere and told him to use me to get it, so he dragged me in front of the mirror. I saw myself with the stone. And then it was just . . . there, in my pocket. He didn't notice, but he did ask me what I saw in the Mirror. I made something up. I think he believed me, but Voldemort didn't and told Quirrell that I was lying. He somehow knew I had the stone. When Quirrell tried to take it from me, he burned his hands. So I grabbed him and just kept hold until I passed out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital wing."

"And the Dark Lord was vanquished once again."

"For a while, anyway," Harry said. "You know what the worst part was? The Mirror was charmed so that only someone who wanted to find the stone, but not use it, could get it. If I hadn't been there, the stone would have stayed safely in the mirror. I thought I was helping, but in all actuality, I could have fucked everything up beyond repair."

"The story of your life, I think," Snape noted meanly.

Okay, that was _it. _Harry had had enough. He shot to his feet. "What exactly is your fucking problem?" he yelled. "You've been a total arsehole to me ever since I walked through that door tonight!"

"You want to know what my problem is? You, Potter, are my problem! You walked about this school like you owned it, like everyone in it should bow down to your greatness. Time after time you got yourself into ridiculously dangerous situations, and not only were you not punished for these transgressions, you were actively praised and rewarded, with racing broomsticks and last-minute points!"

"Seriously?" Harry bellowed. "After all this time and all that has happened since, you're still cheesed about Slytherin losing the cup? You are unbelievable!"

"And you, Mr. Potter, are a headstrong, emotionally volatile, judgment-lacking halfwit!" Snape shouted. "The fact that you nearly died that night has never really registered with you, has it? You. Nearly. Died. If the headmaster hadn't come along when he did, you and I would likely not be having this conversation!"

"I didn't know you cared, Snape!" Harry sneered.

"Oh, rest assured, Potter, I do not. Your continued presence in this institution has been nothing but irritating to me for the last eight years!"

Ouch. That hurt just a little bit. "Fine, then!" Harry said. "I'll just take my irritating presence out of here and leave you to your . . . whatever!"

Harry stormed to the door, marched through it, and slammed it behind him. He made it back to his room in record time, powered by anger-driven steam. Why was Snape being such a git? They'd been getting on so well in the time they'd been spending together. What had Harry done to make Snape revert to the hatred he'd said he didn't feel any more? And how could he fix it? Did he even want to fix it? He threw himself onto his bed and fumed for a long time before finally getting up to shower.

Back in his office, Snape sat at his desk, regret coursing through him, at chasing Potter away. He'd had no call to be so vitriolic and hateful. It wasn't the boy's fault that Snape had apparently developed some inappropriate feelings for a student and had lost all self-control when it came to hiding his emotions. Snape was, quite frankly, ashamed of himself and unsure how he would conduct himself when he next had to face Potter.

It was easy on Friday to ignore Potter's presence in Potions, clustered as he was in the midst of the seventh-years, studiously ignoring Snape in his own right. But Snape simply could not face even the thought of being with the young man for what was sure to be a painfully awkward potions lesson that evening. When he returned Potter's marked homework, he handed him another scroll, tightly curled, which read: _I have other plans this evening and will need to cancel our potions lesson. My apologies._

When Harry read that, back in the safety of his room, he wondered if all of his sessions with Snape were over. Apparently the man wanted nothing further to do with him. There would be no more information-sharing about his mother, no more rehashing their past, no more of those delicious biscuits. No more Snape to visit on Tuesday and Friday evenings to break up the monotony and loneliness. No more indulging his secret crush on the surly older man, a crush he now wished fervently he didn't have.

Harry sat on his bed, his Transfiguration text open on his lap but not holding his attention. It was seven o'clock on Tuesday evening. He should be in Snape's office, just sitting down to tea and his favorite biscuits. But somehow, he'd screwed that up and Snape was angry at him and he'd probably never get to go back there. He was trying not to think too much about it, trying not to feel depressed and abandoned, but it was difficult to get his mind onto anything else. He sighed and resigned himself to a long evening of . . . nothing.

In his office, Severus Snape was also looking at his clock. It was seven o'clock, and his office was Potter-free. Potter had never been late to their meetings. As the seconds ticked by and no one knocked on his door, it became obvious to Snape that Potter was not coming, that he thought himself unwelcome here now after their row last Tuesday and the cancellation of his potions lesson on Friday. That was his own fault, he knew – he'd driven Potter off with his jealousy-inspired bad mood. He knew it was up to him to fix this, if he wanted to fix it. He picked up his wand and flicked it before beginning to speak.

Harry had closed his Transfiguration book and set it aside on the bed. There was no point in having it open if he wasn't going to even look at it. Suddenly, a ghostly deer walked through his wall and came to stand beside his bed.

His mouth hanging open, Harry rose to his knees in the middle of the bed.

The deep, dark voice of Severus Snape spoke. "Your tea is getting cold."

The doe-shaped mist began to dissolve, but before it was completely gone, Harry's feet had hit the floor and he was moving toward the door.

Minutes after sending his patronus to the tardy young man, a hurried knock sounded on the door, and Snape smiled to himself. "Enter," he called.

Harry opened the door and sidled into the room, his face a careful blank. Inside, his heart was racing at the exertion of having pounded down here at the unexpected but very welcome summons, but he was trying not to look as eager as he felt. "Hi," he said, slightly breathless.

"Good evening," Snape countered. "I thought perhaps you were studying and had lost track of time." He needed to have some legitimate reason for having sent the patronus after all. It wouldn't do for Potter to think he'd simply missed his presence.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, moving to his usual seat. "Studying. I . . . um . . . wasn't sure – after last week – that you still wanted to do this."

"I think last week is best forgotten," Snape proposed. "If that is acceptable to you?"

Harry allowed himself to smile now, his relief showing through that he hadn't ruined this. "Definitely," he said. "Oh, I brought Dora down," he said, removing the kitten from inside his robe. "I hope that's okay." He placed her on the floor, and she immediately began to explore the room.

"That is fine," Snape said, making a mental note to himself to have cat treats available at next Tuesday's meeting, in case Potter brought his familiar again. "We had reached the end of your first year," he continued, thinking it better not to dwell too much on that discussion and risk rekindling bad feelings. "And before we move on to the start of your second year, perhaps we should discuss your summer a bit. It was . . . quite eventful."

"That would be an understatement," Harry agreed. "That was the summer I met Dobby."

"Your house-elf friend," Snape remembered. "I have not seen him about the castle."

Harry couldn't speak for a moment, grief at his lost friend overwhelming him. "He . . . died. Bellatrix killed him. When we escaped from Malfoy Manor."

"I am sorry," Snape said sincerely. "I did not know."

"He was something else, Dobby," Harry remembered. "He suddenly appeared on Privet Drive one day that summer, full of warnings about how I shouldn't go back to school because some plot was afoot and I was in danger. He couldn't tell me any details, but he was very determined. He tried to get me into trouble with my aunt and uncle by dropping a pudding Aunt Petunia had made on the kitchen floor. He disappeared, and I was left holding the bag, with my relatives _and _with the Ministry, who thought I'd done a levitation spell."

"The Headmaster said you received a warning from the Ministry."

"Yes, and my aunt and uncle found out that I wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school, so that was an extra bonus. Before that, they'd always been a little bit afraid that I might hex them, I think. After that, they had no reason to . . . Never mind. That's not important. What is important is that their punishment made it so that Ron thought he needed to rescue me."

"And what was their punishment?"

Harry clearly did not want to tell him, but the next little bit of the story wouldn't make a lot of sense unless Snape knew . . . certain details.

"They locked me in my room for the rest of the summer. Only let me out to use the bathroom. They even put bars on the window so I couldn't escape that way."

Snape worked hard to conceal the shock that he felt at that piece of information. They'd locked a twelve-year old boy in his room for weeks, with bars on his window? What if there'd been a fire? What if Death Eaters had somehow broken through the wards and attacked? The boy would have been a sitting duck!

"Anyway," Harry said, hurrying past that bit, "Ron hadn't heard from me for a while, so he and the twins 'borrowed' Arthur's flying car and came to Surrey to rescue me."

"Ah. The flying Ford Anglia."

"Mm hmm. They ripped the bars off the window, the twins got my trunk out of the downstairs cupboard, and I threw everything into the car and off we went. Boy, was Mrs. Weasley angry!" He could still remember the fear he'd felt at her wrath, even if it hadn't been directed at him. "But I got to spend the rest of the summer at the Weasleys, so that was worth it."

"And your relatives? How did they feel about all this?"

"Don't really know," Harry shrugged. "They tried to stop me leaving. Which I never really understood, because if I'd hated me that much, I would have been happy to see me go whenever I got the chance to be rid of me. It never really made sense how much they fought me going to Hogwarts. Their fear of magic was greater than their dislike of having me around, I guess. Anyway, I spent the rest of the summer not locked up and eating lots and playing quidditch. It was great!" Harry smiled at the memory.

Snape removed a yellowed piece of parchment from his Harry Diary and held it up for Harry to see. It was the photo of him and Lockhart at Flourish and Blotts that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_. Harry curled a lip in disgust. "What a ponce he was."

"You look most reluctant to be photographed with him," Snape observed, looking down at the photo of Harry, trying to pull away from a grinning Lockhart.

"Noticed that, did you?" Harry scowled.

Snape shrugged. "At that time, I thought you enjoyed all the attention."

"Well, I didn't."

"I am aware of that now, yes."

"Did you hear about the fight between Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley?"

Snape looked interested. "I did not."

"Yeah, they came to blows! Lucius was being his usual prick self, and he insulted the Weasleys."

"That must have been quite entertaining."

"It was," Harry agreed. "Well until Mrs. Weasley came along and chewed Mr. Weasley a new one."

"A new what?" Snape asked, confused.

Harry's face colored. "Never mind. Muggle expression. Oh, you know what else happened that day?" At Snape's head shake, Harry continued. "That was my first time using the floo, yeah? I ended up in Knockturn Alley." Snape raised his eyebrows. "What a frightening place!"

"I imagine it would be for a twelve-year old on his own."

"I ended up in Borgin and Burkes. The Malfoys came in and I hid in an old cabinet. They were there selling some dark arts objects or something."

"Surprising," Snape said sarcastically.

"Right?" Harry agreed. "Anyway, Hagrid rescued me and took me back up to Diagon Alley. We saw Lockhart. The big fight. Then we went back to the Burrow. I guess that was about it. The rest of the summer was pretty uneventful."

"Until you missed the train."

Harry nodded. "Until we missed the train."

A knock on the door sounded before Harry could begin to describe that little adventure. Snape said, "Enter," and Draco Malfoy opened the door.

He stood for a moment, peering down at Harry with disbelief and disgust.

"Is there something you wanted, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked.

"Yes, I needed to speak with you about the potions assignment."

What a blatant lie that was, Harry thought. Malfoy shouldn't even be _in _the potions class. He was obviously ready to test out, but for some reason had not sat the Potions NEWT yet. Harry wondered what he was waiting for.

"Can it wait?" Snape asked somewhat testily.

"I'd really like to get the assignment finished, sir."

Snape looked at Harry. "That's all right, sir," he said. "We can talk about the train some other time. Now where did Dora get?" Harry spotted her, worrying a thin strip of parchment being used as a placeholder in the book on the bottom of a knee-high stack in the corner. He got up and scooped her up.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you step into the hallway for a moment, please?" Snape requested.

Taken aback, it was a moment before Malfoy could say, "Yes, sir. Of course." Shooting Potter a suspicious look, he backed out of the door and closed it. Snape flicked his wand at the door, reinforcing the silencing spell, sure that Draco was on the other side trying his best to hear what the two were saying.

"Your mother," said Snape, and Harry knew why he'd been kept back, "won an award at an art show that was held one summer by the library. She'd painted a picture of a vase of roses. It was really quite good."

"I didn't know she was talented at art," Harry said with a smile.

"Your mother was talented at many, many things. I will see you on Friday, Mr. Potter. Best not to bring Dora to your potions lesson."

"Oh no, sir. I wouldn't have done that. Too dangerous."

"Right, then. Good night."

"Good night, sir." Harry moved to the door and opened it. Draco pulled back guiltily. Clearly, he'd been trying to listen. "Have a good night, Draco," Harry said pleasantly. Malfoy only glared at Harry's back until he stepped back inside the office and closed the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

**Note:** This is a short one, kind of a filler, I guess.

Chapter Ten

"Now let's discuss your disastrous trip to Hogwarts in the flying car," Snape said after they'd both helped themselves to tea and Dora had had her treats. "Albus wasn't very forthcoming with the details regarding that little escapade. Perhaps you could start with why you felt the need to arrive at school in such a manner?"

"You probably thought it was because I was too good for the train, or that I was just looking for attention, right?"

Snape nodded his acknowledgment at the truth of that statement. At the time, he had been convinced that the boy was an attention-seeking, egotistical, thoughtless child.

"The rest of the Weasleys had gone through the barrier," Harry began. "When Ron and I tried to go through, it was blocked. The wall was just . . . solid. We had no idea why then, though of course I learned later that year that it was Dobby, trying to prevent my going back to Hogwarts. We weren't sure if it was blocked from both sides and whether the Weasleys would be able to come back out for us. We waited a bit, but people were starting to stare, you know? All that luggage, two boys alone, an owl in a cage. So we decided to go back to the car, to wait for the Weasleys. But then . . . I don't remember who decided it would be a good idea if we just took the car." He'd thought it had been Ron's idea, but he didn't want to blame Ron – they'd both gone along with it.

"Did neither of you consider other alternatives?"

"Not really. I think we were both convinced that no one was coming back for us, that they were stuck on the platform."

"And you couldn't have sent your owl to the headmaster? You had your owl, you said?"

A grief-filled look passed over the young man's face that Snape didn't understand. "Yes," he said softly. "Hedwig was there."

"And you didn't think to give her a message to carry to someone concerning the fact that you were stranded at the station?" Snape pressed.

"Never occurred to us," Harry said honestly. "We were twelve. Problem-solving apparently wasn't our strong suit. We tossed our stuff in the boot, and off we went."

"Being seen by several Muggles along the way," Snape said, his disapproval strong, even after all these years.

"Well, it's not our fault that the invisibility booster was faulty. But you're right, it was an incredibly foolish thing to do. Any number of awful things could have happened along the way. We could have gotten lost, we could have crashed into something, something could have crashed into us. But, again, we were twelve. Not many twelve-year olds think things through carefully and certainly they never consider their own mortality."

"However _did_ you find your way?"

"We found the train and followed it."

Well at least _that_ had been somewhat clever of them. "And was your journey eventful?"

"Not until the end of it. It was really boring, actually. It's a long time by train, when you have the trolley and friends to make the time pass. But just the two of us in the car was not a lot of fun. We were hot and thirsty and bored. And then we met the Whomping Willow. At least we weren't bored any more!"

"You were lucky that neither of you was injured."

"I know," Harry conceded. "We were also lucky not to be expelled. You tried hard enough!" he charged.

"I thought what you'd done was incredibly reckless and showed a complete disregard for the secrecy statute," Snape argued.

"Plus, you hated us," Harry observed.

"Plus, I hated you," Snape parroted. "Your punishment, once again, did not suit the infraction."

"Probably not," Harry had to agree. "But I think I understand better now that there was very little I could have done that the Headmaster would have expelled me for. Christ, I nearly killed a fellow student my sixth year, and Dumbledore never even said a word to me about it! He needed me here."

"The howler Mr. Weasley received the following day from his mother was some consolation, to me at least," Snape said with a smirk.

"I'm sure it was," Harry said. "So Ron and I missed the sorting and the feast that year. I think I missed more sortings than I saw, actually. But I wasn't sorry to miss seeing Lockhart up there at the head table. So tell me, Professor, what you remember about that night."

"I remember being sent by Dumbledore to find you. At that point, we had some idea what you were doing. The Weasleys had flooed the Headmaster in a panic, nattering about you being missing and the flying car having disappeared. It didn't take a genius to figure out what you'd done, and we'd been keeping an eye out for you for hours, not knowing how fast a flying car could fly, or even if you'd be able to manage to make your way here in it. I did not see you land, but I must have come across the willow shortly after you made your ignominious return. I made my way up to the castle and caught the two of you outside the Great Hall."

"I remember that," Harry said, gulping a little at the memory. "I thought sure you were going to expel us. I was so afraid I was going to have to go back to the Dursleys."

"You would have had it been up to me," Snape said pointlessly. He'd been very clear about his feelings that night.

Harry didn't think it would make Snape any happier to tell him about the uproarious celebration that had waited for Ron and him in the Gryffindor common room. "Hermione wasn't very happy with us," he said instead.

"The only one of you three who ever showed any amount of sense, and that not often enough," Snape sniffed.

Harry laughed. "Why don't you tell me what you thought of Professor Lockhart," he suggested.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I think that my opinion of Gilderoy Lockhart is irrelevant."

Harry laughed again. "You thought he was useless, too, didn't you?" Harry was serious for a moment. "Was it true, what everyone said? Did you want the defense job?"

"I would have liked to teach defense," Snape admitted. "But it was more important that I be _seen _to want the defense job. In the event the Dark Lord returned, he would have expected me to have done all I could to obtain that post. So I asked every year, and I complained bitterly when it was given to someone else. It was never particularly difficult to dislike the person who was given the job, considering the incompetents that Albus hired. But I was certainly more qualified to teach potions. Albus and I had an understanding. He knew I had to ask, and I knew he had to refuse."

"He did have a knack for choosing unqualified candidates," Harry agreed. "Except Remus. He was by far the best of the lot."

"And yet he was . . ." Snape had been about to launch into Remus Lupin's shortcomings, but then thought better of it. Potter had thought highly of the man, and he had been, after all, killed valiantly in battle.

". . . a werewolf," Harry finished for him quietly.

"Yes, that is what I was going to say."

"Still, he taught us a lot," Harry remembered. Then, wanting to get off the subject of Remus Lupin, he said, "Do you know what Lockhart did during our very first class?" When Snape shook his head, Harry said, "First, he gave us a quiz. About him. His favorite color, his greatest achievement, drivel like that. Needless to say, I failed that quiz. He then showed us a cageful of Cornish pixies, which he proceeded to let loose in the classroom. As you can probably guess, mayhem ensued. He had no clue how to control them. One of them actually took his wand and threw it out the window! The class bolted, Lockhart ran, and he left me and Ron and Hermione to deal with them."

"Which you did how?"

"Hermione immobilized them."

"Miss Granger to the rescue. Again."

"Yeah, good friend, Hermione."

Snape peered down at his journal. "It is around this time that I heard rumors that Mr. Weasley had been vomiting slugs."

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust at that memory. "Yeah, he tried to curse Malfoy, but his wand had broken in the whomping willow incident, and he'd not been able to cast a spell right since. It was disgusting. We took him to Hagrid, but there was nothing to do but wait for it to run its course."

"And what caused Mr. Weasley to attempt to curse Mr. Malfoy?"

"Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood," Harry said, his voice hard.

"Ah," Snape said. "The Malfoy blood prejudice shining through."

"Yeah," said Harry, convinced that Malfoy hadn't changed a whole lot since he'd been an evil prat in second year.

"You served detention with Gilderoy Lockhart," Snape noted.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "What an utter waste of space that man was! He had me signing his name on photos that people had requested from him. Gave me all sorts of advice on how to manage my 'fame.' That was the first time I heard the basilisk in the walls."

"What?" Snape asked, sitting upright. "You _heard _the basilisk?"

"Yeah. In the walls."

"And you never _told_ anyone?"

"Well, I didn't know it was a basilisk, did I? And no one else could hear it! I thought I was nutters. And even if I wasn't, I knew everyone would think that I was! I hoped I'd imagined it."

"And you were able to hear it because you are a parselmouth."

Harry shrugged. "I guess. You know what I didn't understand, though? When I spoke to the snake at the duel, everyone heard me, but no one understood what I was saying. Shouldn't other people have been able to hear the basilisk, even if they didn't understand it?"

"We heard _you_ at the duel, but not the snake. Perhaps only a parselmouth can hear and understand what comes from the mouth of a snake."

"I s'pose," Harry said. "It was weird anyway. It was going on about how it was going to kill someone. Pretty creepy."

"I would imagine so." Snape sat back in his chair. "I find I am getting behind in my marking. Perhaps we could break early for this evening?"

"Oh, certainly, sir. I apologize if I'm keeping you from your work. If you'd rather not do this any more . . ." Though Harry had made the offer, Snape could tell that he was desperately hoping that Snape did not take him up on it.

"No, I can manage both. I find I rather like our little meetings. It is good after all these years to have some things explained."

Harry smiled, relieved. "Good. Well, I'll let you get to it then."

"But not before I satisfy my end of the bargain. Lily's grandfather, this would have been her mother's father, used to take her fishing quite frequently. She enjoyed spending time with him in this way. They would catch trout and perch in a small stream behind her grandparents' home. They never kept any of them, but they thoroughly enjoyed traipsing through the woods for hours together. Petunia was always welcome to go too, of course, but she was much too prim and proper to be mucking about with worms and things with gills."

"Did they ever take _you _with them?" Harry asked.

"A couple of times," Snape said. "Lily did like to include me." Snape said this in such a way that his complete lack of understanding as to why this was was very obvious.

Harry smiled at the vision of his mother and Snape as youngsters, something he didn't have to imagine after having seen them both in Snape's memories, crouching by a stream, putting a worm on a hook, laughing when they landed a wriggling fish.

"That's nice," he said. "Thank you, sir." He rounded up Dora and headed for the door.

"I'll see you on Friday then."


	11. Chapter 11

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Eleven

"Halloween," Snape said. "The first petrified victim. Filch was convinced you had done it."

"Yeah, well, Filch was convinced of a lot of things that were complete rubbish," Harry said meanly. Then he sighed, "But he did love that old cat. I can't criticize him for that." Losing Hedwig had devastated Harry, and he'd grown quickly and completely attached to Dora.

"You and your friends were absent from the feast that evening," Snape remembered.

"Yes. Nearly Headless Nick was having his five hundredth deathday party, and he'd invited us. He invited me right after he'd rescued me from Filch, so I felt like I had to say we'd go. It was pretty disgusting. We'd left to go to the Great Hall to catch the end of the feast when I heard the voice in the walls again. We followed it and came upon Mrs. Norris."

"He wanted you punished in a very bad way," Snape said.

"_You _tried to get me kicked off the quidditch team!"

Snape shrugged. "So I did. Didn't work, of course."

"Yeah, good thing, too. Then I wouldn't have been able to catch the snitch and defeat Slytherin again. I'll never forget the look on Malfoy's face when I took the snitch right out of the air beside him!"

"You paid a hefty price for that victory."

"My arm? Yeah, I guess. Wouldn't have been half as bad if Lockhart hadn't removed the bones! Incompetent moron! Growing bones back _hurts_! But at least I found out who had tampered with the bludger."

"Your friend Dobby?"

"How did you know?"

"The Headmaster told me."

Harry wondered how Dumbledore had found out, but supposed it didn't matter. "Yeah, he was trying to _help_ me by knocking me off my broom and breaking my arm. That was just the kind of house-elf Dobby was," Harry remembered fondly. "He came to see me in the hospital that night and told me he'd done it. He also confessed to having closed off the barrier at the train station so that we couldn't get through. He was trying to keep me from Hogwarts."

"The first student was petrified that night," Snape said after looking in his journal.

"Yeah. Colin Creevey." Harry felt sadness fill him at the memory of the boy who'd been so enamored with him. He'd give nearly anything to have the pesky kid following him around again, asking him for photographs.

Suddenly, as it sometimes did, the loss and the pain filled Harry to the point where he felt as though he must burst with it. Most of the time, he was able to keep the morose thoughts and memories at bay, but every now and then, they would creep up on him, overpower him, and force him to relieve the moments he most wanted to forget: the Headmaster, falling from the turret; Hedwig's needless death; Dobby's heroic demise; losing Mad-Eye Moody; Remus and Tonks, taken from their son before he had a chance to know them and remember them, just as had happened to Harry; Nagini attacking Professor Snape; the dead littering the grounds of Hogwarts; even Crabbe's senseless death in the Room of Requirement. Harry didn't often cry, but when the feelings overwhelmed him like this, there were only two ways to let them out: crying and flying, sometimes simultaneously. He really, _really_ didn't want to cry in front of Snape, and he stood up hastily.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I need . . . I can't do any more tonight. I've got . . . a thing. I'm really sorry to cut this short, but I . . . yeah."

But before Snape could convince the obviously troubled young man that he needn't hide his grief, Harry was gone, sprinting from his office toward his own room, where his Firebolt and a release from this horrible, crushing grief lay waiting for him.

Snape and Dora stared looked at the open door, then at one another. Neither said a word.

"Are you all right?" Snape asked softly after Harry had capped his potion in Snape's lab on Friday evening.

"Me?" Harry asked, looking up at him in surprise. "I'm good."

"I am glad to hear that. Tuesday evening you seemed . . ."

Harry's face colored. "Oh, that. Sometimes it just hits me, you know? Kind of all at once? And I have to fly, or I feel like I'll explode."

"Talking can help," Snape said gently.

"Talking?" Harry repeated. "Isn't that what we've been doing?"

Snape nodded in agreement. "Yes, but we have yet to discuss anything of a very serious nature. It may help you to work through your grief if you can talk about it."

"Um . . . I'm not sure I'm comfortable enough with you yet," Harry admitted. When he saw the hurt in Snape's eyes at that statement, he went on hurriedly. "I think I will be though, when the time comes to talk about . . . those things. Not yet, though. I'm still getting used to . . ."

"To what, Mr. Potter?"

"To this new you," Harry said. "This kinder, gentler you. You've really changed, Professor."

"The war is over, Mr. Potter. I was given a second chance at life, and I decided that I preferred to live that second chance without all the negative feelings that I wallowed in the first time around. The need to act in a certain way was gone, and I decided that I was not going to become permanently the person I had been portraying all those years. It has not been easy. I will not claim not to have had setbacks, but on the whole, I have been trying to be the kind of person that your mother thought I could be."

"I like this new you," Harry confessed shyly. "And I think my mother would be very proud of what you've become."

"I did not share with you a memory regarding your mother on Tuesday. You left too quickly."

Harry looked up at Snape now, looking him fully in the eye for the first time all evening. "I feel like our meetings are no longer about that, sir. They started out as a way for me to get information about my mother, and don't get me wrong, it's been great learning about her. But it seems like the . . . sharing . . . has a certain . . . healing power to it. I'm probably not explaining myself very well," Harry growled, feeling all sorts of stupid.

"I understand you completely," Snape assured him, his voice gentle. "I feel the same. It has been therapeutic for me as well."

Harry handed his potion to Snape, who looked down at it with a practiced critical eye. "This looks more than acceptable. I think we can move on to the fourth year curriculum very soon." Snape had started Harry at square one in these lessons, as though he'd never had potions. Harry had re-learned (and in some cases, learned for the first time) how to chop and measure and weigh and prepare ingredients, and only when he'd mastered that had he been allowed to begin brewing potions from the first-year textbook. Snape hadn't allowed him to progress to the next level until he'd shown a certain level of proficiency. Harry found this one-on-one instructional method, which was also conveniently free of insults and humiliation and sabotage, to be so much more helpful, and he was learning scads. That he got to spend an extra couple of hours with this man every week was a perk he wasn't willing to discount.

"Great," he said, trying not to smile like a lovestruck idiot.

"So, your mother," Snape said. "She loved the band Pink Floyd. She had their first three albums and played them incessantly. She had posters on her wall, t-shirts, every bit of memorabilia she could get her hands on. I ran into her in a Muggle record shop, shortly after she'd married your father. She was buying the band's latest album. We did not speak, but she saw me, and she nodded at me. I wanted to approach her, but I was . . . afraid that she had still not forgiven me for what I'd said to her or for the path that I had chosen. Before their next album was released, she was dead. I bought a copy, in her memory." Severus retrieved the album he'd brought here with him, intending for Harry to listen to it. He set it on the table and ran his hand over it. "This is it. If you would like to listen to it." He looked up at Harry. "Do you have the means to play a record album?"

Harry stared into the man's moistened eyes. "I'm pretty sure McGonagall has a gramophone she'll let me borrow."

"Good. If she does not, let me know, and I will make arrangements." He shook himself out of his melancholy. "So, your potion looks good and we are done here. Take this," he said, sliding the album closer to Harry. "Keep it as long as you need it."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said solemnly. "I appreciate this more than I can say." He picked up the album reverently and looked down at it. The Final Cut. He'd never heard Pink Floyd and had no idea even what kind of music they played. Not that it mattered. His mother had loved them, so Harry knew he'd like them, too, even if they played an old saw and a washboard and sang like cats in heat. "Good night."

"Good night, Mr. Potter. Enjoy your weekend."

Harry left his potions lesson with a final wave and went directly to the Headmistress' office. She did, indeed, have an old gramophone, and she arranged for a house elf to bring it directly to Harry's room. By the time he'd walked there, the old instrument was sitting on his desk, and he eagerly removed the album from its sleeve and placed it carefully on the turntable. He settled the needle in place, then lay on his bed and let the music that his mother loved wash over him.

The album's anti-war message was clear, even to someone as musically-challenged as Harry, and given what he'd just been through, he could certainly appreciate the sentiment. The lyrics of the album's title cut especially resonated with Harry.

_And if I show you my dark side, will you still hold me tonight? And if I open my heart to you and show you my weak side, what would you do? Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone? Would you take the children away and leave me alone? And smile in reassurance as you whisper down the phone? Would you send me packing? Or would you take me home? _

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, handing the album back to Snape over his desk. "That was emotional to listen to."

"Are you sure you wish to return it now?" Snape questioned. "You may keep it, as I said, as long as you like."

"Thank you, but I've owled Hermione and asked her to pick me up a copy, if she can find one. The other albums, too. I'd like to hear those as well. Professor McGonagall said that she hardly ever uses the gramophone and told me I could just keep it in my room until she needs it."

"As long as you're certain. If she is unable to find it, and you wish to have this one again, please don't hesitate to ask."

"I won't," Harry assured him. "Thank you again."

Harry was looking at him with such hero worship in his eyes that Snape felt slightly uncomfortable and strove to move the meeting on to another topic. "Tonight we shall discuss the dueling club," Snape informed Harry as he stuffed the first biscuit of his evening into his mouth.

Harry finished chewing and swallowing before he responded. "Lockhart. What a buffoon! Ron and I were cheering for you that night, you know. I disliked Lockhart that much."

"More than you disliked me?" Snape prodded. "I find that hard to believe."

"He was always going on about his adventures and his heroic deeds. We didn't believe him even before we knew for sure it was all a crock of shite. He thought I was like him – that I liked the fame and the attention. He kept trying to give me pointers on how to better manage my celebrity. He used to re-enact the bogus stories he put in his books, and he'd make me play the different parts. Man, I hated him. I was never happier than when you blasted him during that duel!"

"I do not like to speak ill of a former colleague," Snape said, "but he had an equally negative reception in the staff room. He was convinced that he knew not only his own subject but the rest of them as well. I thought Sprout was going to hex him when he tried to tell her how to care for the Whomping Willow after two naughty little boys had damaged it by crashing into it with a flying car."

Harry looked up from his tea quickly, ready to feel affronted by the accusation, but he calmed down when he saw the amused twinkle in his professor's eyes. He smiled mischievously and ducked his head.

"Yes, well, we've discussed that already. Those naughty boys paid the price for their indiscretion, and we'll not speak of it again. Parseltongue. Let's talk about parseltongue."

"Need I say how shocked I was to hear snake language come out of your mouth that night?" Snape asked.

"Think how I felt. I was speaking a language without even knowing I was doing it or knowing that I _could _speak it. Everyone reacted as though I'd come out and endorsed Voldemort. People were even more afraid of me after that, avoiding me in the halls. Justin Finch-Fletchley actually hid from me in the dormitory because he'd let slip to me that he was Muggle born. That was not a fun time."

"And then he was petrified? That couldn't have helped the perception that you were the Heir of Slytherin."

"You knew everyone thought that?"

"Harry, the teachers were just as disturbed by the goings-on at that time as the students were. We were all paying closer attention to everything. Of course we noticed when the entire student body seemed to be whispering about you. And I have to confess that more than one of our ranks speculated that you might, indeed, be Slytherin's heir."

Harry thought very briefly about asking who had made such an outrageous accusation, then decided he'd rather not know. It was probably Trelawney, the old fraud. "We thought it was Draco."

Snape nodded in agreement. "He would be a logical choice, I suppose."

Harry thought for a moment before divulging this next bit, but figured enough time had gone by that he could reveal the secret without risking his neck. "We thought it was Draco Malfoy, and we hatched a plan to confirm our suspicion."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Well, we – er –" Harry began talking really fast. Despite his belief that his life would no longer be in danger, he wouldn't put it above Snape to punish him in other ways. "We brewed polyjuice potion so that we could transform into other Slytherins and get close to Draco and get him to confess."

Snape sat up straighter. "Slow down. You spoke so quickly I thought sure you said you brewed polyjuice potion, but I must be mistaken. Second years could not brew polyjuice potion successfully."

"You're forgetting I was friends with Hermione Granger."

Harry could tell that Snape was amazed by this news. If Dumbledore had ever discerned what they were up to, he obviously had never shared it with Snape. "Miss Granger brewed polyjuice potion at the age of twelve?"

"Ron and I helped," Harry said defensively. When Snape cocked a challenging eyebrow at him, Harry added lamely, "Well, we stirred and watched it simmer and stuff."

Snape snorted softly. "And she brewed the potion successfully? You actually transformed into someone else?"

"Mm hmm," Harry said, proud of his friend even after all this time.

"So tell me, who did you transform yourselves into?"

"Me, Goyle. Ron, Crabbe."

"How did you pull that off?" Snape asked, incredulous.

"Hermione made a sleeping draught, and we put it in some cakes that we slipped to Crabbe and Goyle. Once they were asleep, we took some hairs. Hermione had gotten spare Slytherin robes from the laundry. We put the hairs in the potion, drank it up, and Bob's your uncle."

"And who did Miss Granger polyjuice herself into?"

"Well, that was where we hit a bit of a snag. She thought she had a hair from Millicent Bulstrode, but it turned out to be from Bulstrode's cat. She grew fur and ears and a tail. It was actually sort of funny. Not that Hermione thought so. She spent a few weeks in hospital before she was completely back to normal."

"I recall Miss Granger missing a great deal of classes," Snape reminisced. "It was difficult not to notice her missing. But no one would tell me why, only that a spell had gone badly and she was confined. I would have liked very much to see that!"

"Don't be mean," Harry chided. "She was brilliant. She just made one little mistake."

"One little mistake in a potion you all had no business brewing. How did she even get the recipe? That book is in the restricted section, and you certainly had no access as second years."

"Lockhart," was all Harry had to say, and Snape understood immediately.

"And where did you brew the potion? It takes a very long time to complete. Even Gryffindors would have noticed a potion brewing in the common room for a month."

"We brewed it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"Ah. No one ever went in there. Still don't. The obnoxious girl still haunts it, I have been told. So that explains the where, but not the how. Some of the ingredients are restricted. How ever did a trio of second years get their hands on them?"

"Don't I have the right to remain silent?" Harry asked, sure that _this_ confession would not be met with such equanimity.

"Come, Mr. Potter. It is clear where you got them – you stole them from me. It only remains for you to tell me how you did so," Snape ordered.

"Only if you agree that after all this time, you can no longer assign punishment, from the taking of points all the way up to and including expulsion. There has to be some statute of limitations on petty thievery."

Snape glared at Harry, but nodded his head. He wanted to know badly enough that he would agree to the terms. That wouldn't stop him from extracting his own revenge later if he thought it warranted. He understood that, and he thought Potter probably did as well.

"Well, we were in class one day. Ron and I were to cause a distraction so that Hermione could sneak into your supply cupboard."

"A firework in a cauldron," Snape remembered. "Mr. Crabbe's, I believe?"

"Actually, it was Goyle's. I know, it was hard to tell the two of them apart, wasn't it? I sometimes thought they were one person. You were so mad," Harry added, looking up at Snape, trying to judge whether he was still as angry as he'd been that day. Snape could hold a grudge for England.

"I was quite convinced it was you that day."

"You were 'quite convinced' I was guilty of every bit of wrongdoing that ever happened in the castle," Harry accused.

"True," Snape conceded. "Well, I guess Miss Granger paid the price for her little bit of skullduggery. Being a cat would have been bad enough, but I suspect it was more difficult for her to be absent from class as long as she was."

"You _do_ know Hermione!" Harry said with a smile.

"So after all of that, you learned nothing."

"Exactly nothing," Harry agreed. "Well, that's not true. We learned that Draco _wasn't_ the Heir of Slytherin, because he did tell us that he didn't know who it was either. So, close to nothing, but not quite."

"Had anyone known that Tom Riddle was the heir of Slytherin, a great panic would have ensued."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It wasn't long after that that I talked to him."

"You _what_?"

"I talked to Tom Riddle. Well, the Riddle from the past. The sixteen-year old Riddle."

"Explain."

"You know about the diary?" Harry paused for Snape to nod. "We found it in the bathroom. Ginny had tried to get rid of it. I was looking at it, curious, you know?"

"Yes, your curious streak is larger than your stubborn streak and just the same size as your irritating streak."

"Ha ha. Anyway, it was empty. Nothing written on any of the pages. So I took a quill, and I wrote in it. And Riddle wrote back."

"And you did not immediately fling the thing away from you and run at top speed to the Headmaster's office?" Snape asked, appalled.

"No," Harry said sheepishly. "I talked to him for a bit, and then he pulled me into the diary. He showed me what happened the first time the Chamber was opened, how Hagrid was blamed and then expelled."

"He _pulled you into the diary_. Potter, I sincerely do not know how you lived long enough to reach your majority. Did you ever even once stop to consider how dangerous that might have been? What if the then current Dark Lord had a way of communicating with his former self? What if he'd been able to harm you in there? What if you'd been stuck in there, unable to return to your world? Any number of horrible things could have happened to you. Did you even think of _one _before you just hopped inside a book?"

Harry could feel himself blushing. He really had been quite a stupid boy, hadn't he? "No," he said with a shrug. Wasn't much he could do about it now, was there? "We talked, he sucked me in, he showed me what he wanted me to see, then I came back. Wasn't a lot of thinking involved."

Harry could tell that Snape so badly wanted to comment on his habit of not thinking, and he admired the man his restraint when he did not do so.

"I continue to feel it is a miracle that you survive to this day," Snape did say, but Harry noticed an absence of sarcasm and malice in the man's tone. Maybe it was Harry wishful thinking, but Snape seemed to be feeling warm and almost . . . affectionate toward Harry.

Nah, probably just wishful thinking.

Harry yawned, then covered his mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry, sir. I was up early this morning."

"Trouble sleeping?" Snape inquired.

"No. Not usually. Dora woke me up at four, and I couldn't go back to sleep."

"Where is your familiar this evening?"

"Dunno. She was off somewhere when I came down here. Probably chasing mice. Or catching up on her sleep."

"Which is exactly what you should be doing," Snape noted, standing up. "It is rather late, and I have potions exams to prepare for my seventh years later this week."

"Potions exam?" Harry asked, alarmed. "Did you announce an exam last class?"

"Life throws little surprises at us from time to time, does it not, Mr. Potter? We do not always have advance notice of these little surprises. Hence why they are called 'surprises.' An unexpected exam is good practice for the life you will be living when you finally leave here."

Harry smiled. Snape had given him, and only him, advance notice of a surprise exam scheduled for Friday. He decided to push his luck. "Don't suppose you'd tell me what you plan to cover on this 'surprise' exam?"

"That would give you an unfair advantage, Mr. Potter. More than you already have simply because you know something the remainder of your class does not. Has your Gryffindor sense of fair play completely deserted you?"

"No, but my Slytherin side just had to ask." He stood up. "Good night, Professor. Thanks for the tea and the biscuits."

"Yes, the biscuits. I seem to go through a lot more of those biscuits since we have begun our . . . meetings."

"Sorry, sir. They're just really good."

"I agree with you, Mr. Potter. And you have nothing to apologize for. If I did not want you to have them, I would not serve them."

Harry smiled brightly up at the older man and moved to the door. He opened it, and before he slipped out, he added, "The biscuits are as good as the company."

Which left Snape smiling at the door for longer than was strictly reasonable.


	12. Chapter 12

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this.

Chapter Twelve

"Your examination, Mr. Potter," Snape said after Harry had settled into his usual chair in front of the potions master's desk.

Harry took the parchment anxiously. He'd thought he'd done pretty well on Snape's "surprise" exam, but with potions, he never took anything for granted. A smile lit up his face when he saw the E prominently displayed in red at the top of the parchment. "You gave me an 'E'!"

"You _earned_ an 'E,' Mr. Potter. I gave you nothing."

"Well, thanks," Harry said, grinning still. "I thought I'd done pretty well. I guess all that extra help is paying off, huh?"

"It has not been a complete waste of time," Snape agreed. Dora jumped up onto the desk between them, and Snape removed one of the treats he kept for her in his top drawer and fed it to her.

"I was thinking over what we talked about last time," Harry said, pouring tea into two cups. He pushed one toward Snape, then snatched Dora up when she tried to put her nose into it. "Things were really quiet for a time after the diary incident. That happened in the spring, yeah?" Snape nodded confirmation. "Probably the next important thing that happened was Hermione getting petrified."

"Yes," Snape said. "Miss Granger _and _Miss Clearwater."

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, recalling that two people were petrified in that incident. He loved Hermione, and the attack against her stood out more readily in his mind. "Poor Hermione. She'd just figured everything out, and then she got petrified before she could really tell anyone."

"What do you mean, 'she'd just figured everything out?'"

"She's the one who figured out that the basilisk was getting around in the pipes. She had a page torn from a library book crumpled in her hand about the basilisk and what it feared. She'd written the word 'pipes' on it. She knew it was getting around the school in the plumbing. That's why I kept hearing it in the walls. But before she could tell anyone, she ran into the thing herself. Thank God she had a mirror with her."

"It really is quite a miracle that no one was killed, given the number of attacks," Snape agreed.

"Yeah, and fucking Lucius Malfoy used that attack as an excuse to get Dumbledore tossed out of here," Harry said venomously.

"Language, Mr. Potter," Snape said mildly. "Do not make me take points."

"Sorry, but I really hate that guy. Smug, supercilious bastard – oops! There I go again," Harry apologized with a smile that was not at all contrite. "Ron and I had snuck down to Hagrid's cabin that night under the Invisibility Cloak, and it was there that Malfoy caught up with the Headmaster. He looked down his aristocratic nose at Hagrid's home. Jerk! Then Fudge came and took Hagrid away! They took him to Azkaban, just because the chamber had been opened, and everyone assumed he'd opened it the first time! But he hadn't – Tom Riddle had!"

"Calm yourself," Snape advised. "Everything worked out eventually, as it was meant to."

"Yeah, but Azkaban! I can't imagine being there if I deserved to be! But to be innocent and shut away in there – " Harry shuddered.

"You had an eventful night," Snape noted.

"Yeah. And before they took Hagrid away, he dropped this really obvious hint about following the spiders. I'd noticed the spiders around Hogwarts were acting really weird, but I had no idea that it was connected to everything else. So Ron and I began looking for them. It appeared that they were all heading in the same direction, so one night, we snuck out after curfew and followed them."

"And where did they lead you?"

"Into the forest."

"Of course they did."

"They were going to Aragog."

"And what, pray tell, is Aragog?"

"You don't know?" Harry asked, eyes twinkling at the thought that he knew something that Snape didn't. "Hagrid's pet. The acromantula."

"Ah," said Snape with a knowing nod. "I knew that he kept such a beast. I did not know its name. So you followed these spiders into the acromantula's lair?"

"Well, we didn't really _follow_ them there. See, the spiders had surrounded us before we even knew they were there. Two of them picked up Ron and me, and they _carried _us to Aragog."

Snape looked slightly ill at this. "You were _carried _by giant spiders?"

"Yeah. It was _so_ creepy. More so for Ron – he really hates spiders. They were _everywhere_. There were some the size of cats, and some the size of dogs. And then there was Aragog. Did you ever see him?"

Snape shook his head.

"He was friggin' scary! Creepy multi-sectioned eyes, big pincers. And he spoke. Told us that it wasn't Hagrid who had opened the chamber all those years ago, that the beast was something that even spiders feared. He told us that he let Hagrid come into the forest unmolested because he was a friend, but he wasn't going to give us the same consideration. He told all his darling little children that they could have us for dinner. There were, like, a million of them!"

"How did you ever escape from them?"

"Remember the car that Ron and I flew to Hogwarts on the first day? It had gone into the forest and was living there. It came bursting out of nowhere. We jumped in, and it took us back to the school grounds. I really thought we'd bought it that day!"

Snape stared down at Harry, who sat munching unconcernedly on a biscuit, as though he hadn't just been telling a tale of his twelve-year old self nearly being eaten by a spider the size of an elephant. "I am probably going to regret asking this, but how many times in your life have you been convinced that you were going to die? Actually felt in your gut that it was the end?"

Harry put his biscuit down on the desk and thought. "Well, I guess the first time after I came to school was when I faced Voldemort and touched Quirrell. I thought for sure that was the end of me then. Then with the spiders – I didn't see how we were going to get out of that one. After the basilisk bit me. When I fell off my broom, before I lost consciousness, I thought sure I was going to splat on the ground. The dementors by the lake after Sirius came, though I guess that wouldn't technically have been dead. Close enough. In the Department of Mysteries, a Death Eater was choking me, and no one noticed, and then again when Voldemort possessed me. In the graveyard, with Voldemort. I thought sure the inferi had got me when I went to the cave with Dumbledore. It crossed my mind that _you _might kill me, when you had me on the ground, after Dumbledore died, but you never did anything but rough me up a little. Then last year, oh man, the time Nagini was inhabiting Bathilda Bagshot, riding the dragon out of Gringott's. And then, of course, I _did_ die when I went to Voldemort in the forest. So I don't know, how many times was that? I lost count."

Snape shook his head in wonder. He wasn't sure if he looked forward to hearing all of these stories or not. The life this young man had led. But one thing had stood out glaringly from this recitation. "You said 'the first time after I came to school.' Were there times _before_ you came to school when you feared for your life?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked away. He still did not speak of his childhood easily. "Well, you know, I was just a kid then. Kids have a different way of looking at things. Take pudding away from a kid for one night and they're convinced that they're going to die because of it."

"Did you have pudding withheld when you were a child, Harry?" Snape asked softly.

"No," said Harry bitterly. "I never _had_ pudding. So it would have been pretty damn difficult to take it away!"

"My point," Snape said. "You were hardly a typical child growing up. So I ask you again, were there times when you were a child that you felt your life was in danger?"

"We seem to have gotten off topic here," Harry said stubbornly. "We're not supposed to be talking about my childhood."

Snape stared at him for a long moment. "Never mind. I think you've answered my question. The only thing I don't know is how many times. But it seems clear that you did, indeed, fear for your life on at least one occasion before the age of eleven."

Harry fought the urge to curl into a ball in his chair, to protect himself from what Snape was saying. Thinking about that time of his life made his stomach hurt, so he had just stopped doing it. What was the point? It wasn't going to change anything, was it?

"I apologize for making you uncomfortable," Snape finally said. "I think this is a good place to stop for the evening. Perhaps you'd rather discuss the one area on your examination where you went astray?"

Glad for the change in topic, Harry retrieved his parchment and his biscuit and dropped his eyes to the comments Snape had made in red ink.

"I think it is time we finish up with your second year," Snape told Harry at their next meeting. "Let us begin with Miss Weasley being taken into the Chamber of Secrets. How did you learn she'd been taken?"

"We'd just pieced together what the basilisk was and how it was getting around," Harry recalled. "Thanks to Hermione. We decided we needed to tell someone, so we were going to the staff room to wait for Professor McGonagall. We'd just gone inside when we heard the announcement telling students to go to their common rooms and calling teachers to the staff room. We hid in a wardrobe, and we heard McGonagall when she told you all about Ginny."

"You heard all that?" Snape asked, remembering how they'd all basically ganged up on Lockhart.

Harry smiled at the memory. "I certainly did. Ron and I went back to the common room. We thought that Lockhart would really try to get into the chamber, so we decided we'd go down and tell him what we knew. When we got to his office, it was really obvious that he was packing to leave. Coward!" Harry spit. "So we – convinced him to go with us down into the Chamber. Thanks for teaching us _expelliarmus_, by the way.

"We'd figured out where the opening to the Chamber was, so we took Lockhart down there. It was good I was there, because a parselmouth was required to open the Chamber. I opened it up, we forced Lockhart in, and Ron and I followed him.

"Lockhart managed to get Ron's wand away from him at some point, and he tried to obliviate us, but Ron's wand was broken, and the spell backfired. Lockhart wiped out his own memories. His spell caused a cave-in of sorts, and I was separated from Ron and Lockhart by fallen rocks. We decided that I would go on and Ron would stay and try to clear the rock away so that when I found Ginny, we'd be able to get back out."

"You went on alone?" Snape asked, his tone quiet and full of respect for the brave boy who hadn't yet reached his teens.

"Yeah," Harry said. "So I found the chamber. Ginny was there. She was unconscious. While I was trying to wake her up, Tom Riddle showed up. He got my wand. I'd dropped it – stupid, I know, you don't have to tell me. He told me all about the diary, how he'd used it to control Ginny. He kept dropping all these hints, but I was slow to figure out what he was talking about. Then he told me who he was. We went back and forth about who the greatest wizard of all time was, and then, out of the blue, Fawkes shows up. I thought, 'awesome, help has arrived,' but he drops the sorting hat at my feet. What was I supposed to do with that, _sort _him into submission? Have you never heard this story before?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore was very tight-lipped about what had gone on down there," Snape told him. "You were not the only one whom Dumbledore withheld information from."

"Hmm," Harry said in surprise. "That surprises me. Anyway, Voldemort wanted me to tell him how I'd survived his cursing of me when I was a baby. I told him I didn't know, and then he called the basilisk." Harry couldn't suppress a shudder at the memory of the large serpent slithering about in the statue's mouth. "He told the basilisk to kill me. I had my eyes closed, and I tried to run, but the basilisk hit me and knocked me down. I was sure it was going to kill me then, but then Fawkes attacked. He poked both its eyes out. It was gross and wonderful, all at the same time. I somehow came to be holding the sorting hat, and in desperation I put it on. Gryffindor's sword fell out of it. Hit me right on the head, nearly knocked me out.

"I picked up the sword. The basilisk lunged at me, and I just blindly thrust the sword up. It went through the roof of its mouth. Unfortunately, its fangs were long enough that one of them stabbed into my arm as it died. It hurt so bad, and I was bleeding a lot. I sort of slumped onto the floor, and Fawkes came over to me. Voldemort said something about how he was going to sit there and watch me die, and then Fawkes cried on the wound. He healed me. Voldemort picked up my wand to curse me, and Fawkes dropped the diary on me. I picked up the fang that I'd pulled out of my arm, and I stabbed the diary with it. I have no idea why I did that, why I thought that would work, but it did. It caused Voldemort to just – disintegrate I guess. I picked up the hat and the sword and the diary. Ginny woke up. We went back to Ron. Lockhart was a basket case. Fawkes hauled us all out of there. And that was it."

"That was it?" Snape repeated, amazed at the entire story.

"Yup. Hermione and the others got un-petrified, Hagrid came back, Dobby got freed. And that was that. And after all that, my reward was that I got to go back to the Dursleys for the summer."

"Dobby was freed," Snape remembered. "Lucius was livid. I think he was angrier about that than he was about being dismissed from the Board of Governors. What did you have to do with that?"

"I gave Lucius the diary back. He gave it to Dobby. Lucius didn't know I'd put a sock inside. Presto: Dobby was free."

Snape shook his head in wonder. "You really are amazing."

Harry waited for the teasing insult that must surely follow a compliment from Severus Snape, but it never came, and he allowed himself a full smile at the older man. "I'm not, really. I had so much help that night. If it hadn't been for Fawkes, I would have died down there."

"That may be true, but do not denigrate your own courage. Many a grown man would have died from fright facing a fully-grown basilisk. You not only stood your ground but you saved a classmate and destroyed the evil that was threatening to overtake our world. You truly were a hero, Harry Potter."

Harry's entire being filled with warmth at Snape's praise, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling like an idiot. When Snape offered him a small smile in return, Harry's heart nearly leapt out of his throat. They sat there for an inordinately long time just smiling at each other. Finally, Snape cleared his throat. "I think we had better end this here. It is getting late." It wasn't really. They'd met much later than this before, but it seemed obvious that something had changed between them, something had shifted.

Harry stood up slowly, somehow reluctant to leave. "All right," he said. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Harry," Snape said softly.


	13. Chapter 13

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

Chapter Thirteen

Harry felt strange and awkward as he sat in his usual spot in Snape's office. Something had fundamentally changed about their relationship, and he felt as though he was navigating his way through unfamiliar terrain with his eyes closed. Snape had offered him tea, as usual, but when he'd picked up the cup to hand it to Harry, he'd dropped it, then spent a long time mopping up the spilled beverage and pouring more tea into Harry's cup. This unusual show of clumsiness on his professor's part actually made Harry feel a little better: he wasn't the only one unnerved by whatever was going on here.

His stomach full of merry butterflies, Harry nibbled the edge of a biscuit. "Will you be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas?" he asked, feeling all kinds of pathetic at making small talk.

"Yes," Snape said.

"Me, too. Is that what you normally do?"

"It is."

"Me, too. You probably already knew that, though, right?" Harry wished he could just shut up, but his tongue seemed to have taken on a life of its own. To keep himself from voicing any more idiotic thoughts, he stuffed a whole biscuit into his mouth.

Feeling more than a little uncomfortable himself, Snape offered the boy a lifeline. "We shall discuss the summer between your second and third years. It was rather eventful."

Glad to have this to talk about, Harry smiled and jumped right in. "Yeah. Aunt Marge. God, I hated that woman. She was Uncle Vernon's sister. Well, she still is, I reckon. She hated me almost as much as I hated her. She had these dogs, and she treated them better than she treated most people. Definitely better than she treated me. The Dursleys told her that I went to school at some place for criminals. Anyway, she came to stay that summer. I tried to stay out of her way. I wanted Uncle Vernon to sign my Hogsmeade permission form, see, and he said he would if I behaved. He probably wouldn't have no matter what I did, but I was young and naive back then. We survived each other almost the entire week, but then that night she started in on my parents. She said my father was a lazy drunk who didn't work. She said some awful things about my mother and said they died in a car crash. I just got _so _angry. Before I knew what was happening, she just started to . . . swell like a balloon. She floated up to the ceiling.

"I knew how much trouble I was in. I'd been warned not to do any 'funny stuff' while she was there. So I ran to get my trunk and Hedwig and all my stuff, and I left. I'd just had enough."

"You were thirteen. What was your plan?"

"I didn't have one, did I?" Harry stated the obvious. "Wasn't like I'd thought it out. I just couldn't take them saying those things about my parents, and about me, and treating me like I was some kind of . . . animal or defective or something."

"So you just struck out into the night?"

"In all my self-righteous glory. Once that wore off, I began to make plans for living my life on the lam. I was sure I'd be expelled from Hogwarts for doing magic, and I was half convinced I'd be arrested if the Ministry caught up with me. Before I could put any of those half-baked plans into action, I tripped over my trunk and somehow called the Knight Bus."

"You raised your wand arm," Snape observed.

"I did," Harry agreed, "as I was falling. So I got on the bus and it took me to the Leaky Cauldron. Imagine my surprise when the Minister of Magic was waiting there for me. And I wasn't in trouble, and they were just going to look the other way. I was going to be allowed to stay in Diagon Alley for two weeks until school started, and I thought I was in heaven. That was the best two weeks of my life," Harry remembered fondly. "I explored Diagon Alley and ate lots of ice cream and answered to no one but myself. Eventually, though, it had to come to an end. The Weasleys came to Diagon Alley for school supplies, and the following day we all got on the Express to return to school."

"For an even more eventful year than the ones previous to it," Snape observed.

"Yeah. Sirius," Harry said sadly. Talking about Sirius was still hard. Not only did Harry still feel guilt about the part he'd played in his godfather's death, Sirius had represented his ticket out of Privet Drive, and when Sirius had died, his dream of having his own family, a family that loved him and wanted him, had died along with it. It was difficult for him to decide, now, with the passage of time, which he'd mourned more. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by his grief for the man, and he stood up quickly, certain that he was going to cry and even more certain that he didn't want to do that in front of Snape.

He made it as far as the door before Snape stopped him. "Harry, wait," he said. Harry stopped and felt Snape come to stand behind him.

"Do not be afraid to show your emotions. Unresolved grief can eat away at you until it destroys everything." Snape put a hand on his shoulder and turned Harry to face him.

Harry looked up into Snape's dark, serious eyes. He lost himself in the dark tunnels, the hand still on his shoulder seeming to burn his skin through his shirt. His heart rate increased, and he was finding it difficult to breathe evenly. More than a little afraid of what he was feeling, Harry whispered, "I don't know what's happening, Professor."

A long slender finger traced along his jawbone, sending a shiver down Harry's spine. "Haven't you ever felt this way before?"

Harry shook his head. "Not like this. Not this strong. Not . . . for another man."

"Ah," Severus said, understanding where some of the boy's obvious anxiety was coming from. He was so tempting, standing there with his large green eyes and the trembling caused by his innocence. "Have you never kissed a man, Harry?"

Harry shook his head again, unable to formulate words.

Snape lowered his head until his lips touched Harry's. The kiss was brief and chaste, until Harry moaned a little in the back of his throat and parted his lips. Snape's tongue accepted the invitation immediately, and the kiss became much more heated, too quickly for Harry to handle. He was just about as inexperienced as a man could be, and he knew he was going to embarrass himself in a matter of seconds if this continued. Calling up a reserve of strength he didn't know he had, he pulled his lower body away from Snape. It took longer to pull his lips away, and when he did, he was breathing as heavily as though he'd run down to the dungeon from Gryffindor Tower.

Snape stroked his cheek again, then reluctantly stepped away from the young man. "I must apologize, Mr. Potter," he said softly. "That was extremely inappropriate."

"No," Harry said, "please don't. You didn't – you didn't do anything I didn't want you to. I – I liked it. It never felt like that with a girl. I'm sorry if I wasn't very good at it. I haven't had a lot of practice."

"Do not trouble yourself on that count," Snape said sincerely. "Come, let us sit again. We should discuss what has happened here tonight."

Trying desperately to keep his obvious arousal from Snape's notice, Harry awkwardly returned to his chair and sat, crossing his legs, taking deep, calming breaths.

Snape sat as well. Harry was very grateful that Snape spoke first, because he was at a complete loss as to how to start this conversation.

"I repeat my apology, Mr. Potter. My actions were inappropriate and unforgivable."

"Please don't say that," Harry begged. "I . . . I liked it. I wanted it."

"Be that as it may," Snape continued, "I am your teacher. Your are my student. Any intimate relationship between the two of us would be wrong."

"Do you think that matters to me?"

"It matters to me, Mr. Potter," Snape said firmly and sincerely. "I have done very many despicable things in my life, both in service to the light _and_ the dark. There is one line I have never crossed – I have never become involved with a student. I would ask that you respect that and leave me with this one area of my life unsullied."

Harry felt the crushing weight of disappointment settle around him. He'd just shared the best kiss of his (admittedly not very varied) life with this man, and now he was telling him that it had to end here? Apparently he wasn't a very good kisser. Or there wasn't any real feeling on Snape's part behind the kiss. "Oh," he said, his voice sounding very small and young. "I guess I'm just too young and inexperienced, huh? I can't really blame you, I suppose."

"Mr. Potter," Snape said, and he waited until Harry looked up at him before he continued speaking. "You are a very desirable young man. Were you not my student, the difference in our ages would not matter one whit to me. And, quite frankly, I find your innocence intoxicating. But the fact that I desire you does not change our respective positions."

"Me being your student?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"I could take my potions NEWT now," Harry offered hopefully.

"Do you feel that you are ready to take your potions NEWT now?"

Harry wanted very badly to say yes. The truth, however, was that in their Friday night potions sessions, they'd only covered up through the potions Snape taught in the mid-point of fourth year. If he took his potions NEWT now, his score would be unlikely to impress anyone. "No," he said miserably.

"I concur with your assessment," Snape told him. "Whatever else happens, your education will not be jeopardized. You have returned to Hogwarts for that purpose, and we will do nothing to compromise your doing the very best that you can. And the fact that you were no longer my potions student would not change the fact that you are a student of Hogwarts. Also, you are a very young man. And a very powerful and attractive wizard. You could have your pick of partners, male or female, and you wouldn't have to search long to find one more suitable than I."

"No," Harry disputed. "I don't want that. First of all, I'm pretty sure I'm quite gay, so I don't want _any _females." Harry hadn't accepted the truth of that in his own mind until right this moment, but he knew with certainty now that it _was _the truth. "And while I haven't had a lot of opportunity to explore what I _do_ want, I know that when I kissed you, it felt . . . so right. Like a missing piece had slid into place. You understand me, Professor, like no one else can. We come from the same place: our childhoods, our experiences with the headmaster and with Voldemort. It's very hard to speak to anyone about these things, but when I talk to you, I feel like you can identify with me and understand me like no one else ever could. Do you think that you could _ever_ get involved with . . . someone like me?"

"If, when you have completed your education, you are interested in pursuing a furtherance of our current relationship, I would very much like to explore that with you." In the face of the young man's obvious happiness at that statement, Snape felt compelled to continue. "But know this – should you change your mind in the meantime, or find a more suitable partner, I will not hold that against you. You are eighteen years old, and you should be free to experiment, with both sexes if you so desire. No one would advise you to tie yourself to a much-older, tainted, reviled man such as I. Live a little, Harry, before you make any decisions that have lifelong consequences."

Harry wasn't really listening to the man's advice: he'd heard that Snape was willing to try a relationship with him once he was no longer a student. He knew what he wanted: He wanted Snape. He didn't want to experiment with anyone else or look for someone more "suitable."

"So, let me get this straight," he said. "Once I'm no longer a student, you and I can get together to see if we can make this work?"

"If that is what you still want when the time arrives," Snape confirmed.

Harry felt happiness bubbling up inside him and struggled to contain it so as not to act like a five-year old in front of this man. "Oh, I'll still want it," Harry assured him. "And in the meantime . . ."

"In the meantime?" Snape asked.

"Well, I wouldn't mind more of those kisses," Harry confessed with a blush.

"No, Mr. Potter. There will be no more kisses. You must understand that our interaction must be professional. I am your teacher, and you are my student. I will attempt to assist you with potions as much as I am able, and you will come to your lessons prepared to imbibe whatever knowledge I have to offer you."

"I understand," Harry said. "But can we still do this – meet on Tuesday evenings to discuss stuff?" The thought of giving up these weekly sessions was distressing. Harry had come to view them as the high point of his week.

"We can, as long as we maintain a strictly professional relationship."

"I can do that," Harry assured him. "I disagree with where you're coming from, Professor, but I can respect it. And I will. I won't do anything to push boundaries. I don't want to lose this."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Potter," Snape said sincerely. "Because I fear that if you did push my boundaries, I would be unable to resist, and I would hate myself in the morning. I am going to trust that you will not make this any more difficult than it already is."

Harry smiled winningly at him. Snape thought this was difficult already? Well, that was promising. And now that Harry had tasted the other man's lips and understood just how that long, lean body felt pressed up against his own, he was sure he'd be finding it difficult as well to be in the other man's presence and not think inappropriate thoughts. But this meant a lot to him, and maintaining proper decorum obviously meant a lot to Snape, so he could do this. "Thank you, sir. For having faith in me. I look forward to the time when school is behind us, so that we can move on to better things, but I will behave myself in the meantime. At least while I'm with you."

Snape raised an eyebrow in question at that statement.

"Well, I _am_ eighteen," Harry explained. "I can't be blamed if my dreams step over the line, can I?"

"No, I suppose not," Snape said with a small smile.

"And having those types of dreams is only a step removed from actively fantasizing about you while I'm wanking, right?" Harry pressed on, feeling daring and naughty.

Snape's eyes widened and darkened at that image. "You may fantasize about whatever you like," he said, his voice tight. "You will not, however, discuss those fantasies with me."

"Deal," Harry said happily. "Were we done with what we were supposed to talk about today?"

Snape looked down at his journal. "Yes, we'd reached a logical place to stop, I believe."

"Good." Harry said, standing up and preparing to leave. "Having a private room is going to come in very handy over the next few months," he said with a sly grin.

Amazingly enough, when Harry reported for his usual Friday night potions tutorial, he didn't feel awkward. He smiled warmly at Snape when he arrived, and his usually stoic potions master had gifted him with a small smile in return. They set to work immediately on the potion du jour, and when he'd finished it and bottled it, Harry turned it over to Snape, confident that he'd brewed it correctly.

"Can I ask you something, sir?" Harry asked.

Snape studied him for a moment. "Is it about potions?"

"No," Harry said. "It's about my mum."

Snape sighed. They'd stopped talking about Lily, but they'd originally agreed to meet to discuss her, so he didn't think he could turn the boy's questions away now. He'd been half convinced that Harry would begin an assault on his resolve to wait until Harry was no longer a student, and he'd been pleasantly surprised by Harry's businesslike attitude here tonight.

"Go ahead."

"Well, I was just wondering . . . after we talked the other night. Well, it seemed obvious from the memories that you liked my mum." Harry could feel himself blushing. "I mean, that you _liked_ my mum, you know? So I was curious . . ." He was finding it difficult to phrase this question appropriately.

"Are you concerned that my interest in you is because you share her eyes? Do you believe that I am laboring under some kind of confusion as to who _you _actually are?" Snape guessed.

"No," Harry said quickly. "I didn't think you were mixing up me and my mum." That was actually kind of a horrifying thought. "I just . . . you kissed me. And I'm a bloke. And my mum . . . well, she was a girl. And I just wondered . . ."

Ah. The source of Harry's confusion was apparent to him now. "You wonder how I can like a young man after the feelings I had for a young woman while I was in school? Are you wondering if I am truly gay, Mr. Potter?"

"Not exactly," Harry said, looking down at his twisting fingers. "That's kind of a personal question, I would think, someone's orientation. I can't ever imagine coming out and asking a person if they were gay. I just . . . um wondered I guess if you . . . if you like both."

"Are you having doubts about your own preferences now, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked. Perhaps after their conversation of Tuesday evening, the young man had decided he was not quite as gay as he'd said he was.

"No," Harry said with certainty, looking at Snape straight in the eye now. "After we talked the other night, I started . . . paying more attention to the people around me. There is no doubt in my mind now that I prefer my own kind." It had been an interesting couple of days. Harry had spent most of it surreptitiously watching people, girls as well as boys. He'd determined that the swell of breast and the curve of hip did nothing for him, while late-day stubble and the subtle bulge in the front of another bloke's trousers interested him to the point of growing uncomfortably hard in his own trousers. He'd spent a lot of time wanking, too, after these people-watching experiments. Yes, a private room really was useful.

Snape said nothing about the boy's declaration. Despite the sureness with which he spoke, Harry was still only eighteen. Many young people took much longer to decide where their own preferences lie. He, himself, had questioned himself and gone back and forth until he was in his mid-twenties.

"To answer your question, Mr. Potter, your mother was the very first person I ever loved. I was a young boy when I met her, so obviously that love was the type that one has for one's best friend. As we grew older, that love changed as well. Without going into uncomfortable detail, I will tell you that I did find her physically attractive, but the biggest part of how I felt about her even then was made up of her acceptance of me when we were children. She was, quite frankly, the only person who ever showed any interest in me and didn't want something in return. If I had had the opportunity, I am quite certain I would have married your mother. We likely would have been as happy as any other married couple. Having said that, by the time I was twenty-five, I myself knew that I preferred men. In fact, your mother is really the only woman that I have ever felt myself attracted to, but I think I was more besotted with her inner beauty than anything else. Does this answer your question adequately?"

"It does. Thank you, sir. Will we meet on Tuesday?"

"The Hogwarts Express does not leave until Wednesday. Unless you feel you are too busy with holiday preparations . . ."

"No," Harry said quickly. "I want to see you. If this is all we can have for now, then I intend to take full advantage."

"Then I will see you on Tuesday," Snape said. "Do try not to fall off your broom tomorrow."

"I won't, sir," Harry said with a smile. "Good night, then."

It was getting harder to leave.


	14. Chapter 14

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

Chapter Fourteen

Harry had been looking forward to his meeting with Snape all day. A not altogether unpleasant churning in his stomach had prevented him from eating much at dinner, but he knew that Severus would have his favorite biscuits.

"How was your day?" Snape asked him as he settled himself in front of the chair.

Harry had brought Dora down today, and he placed her on the floor so that she could explore. "It was good," he said with a bright smile. "Tuesdays are a light day for me."

"Aren't most days 'light' for you, lately?" Snape teased.

Harry smiled in acknowledgment. "Yes, I suppose they are." He only had two remaining classes, so he had plenty of free time these days. "But everyone's in such a good mood, what with the holiday coming, and Christmas. The trees in the Great Hall are especially magnificent this year, don't you think?"

"Yes," Snape agreed. "Hagrid has outdone himself. And your studies continue to go well?"

Harry had just tossed a biscuit into his mouth, and he blushed when crumbs came spilling back out when he attempted to answer the question. He stopped until he'd chewed thoroughly and swallowed. "Yeah. Well, you know how Potions is going. Transfiguration is still so hard. I think I'll need the entire year before I'm ready for that one. And even then . . ."

"If there is anything that I can do to assist you there, you need only ask," Snape offered.

Harry smiled again. (He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight.) "I appreciate that. If it gets any worse, you may be seeing even more of me."

Snape looked as though he wouldn't mind that any more than Harry did. "We should get to it," he said. "I have a journal entry regarding an injury that Draco received from a hippogriff."

Harry's good humor evaporated instantly. "Malfoy," he growled. "Hagrid told him to be respectful. But he just _had_ to be a show-off and antagonize Buckbeak. Git! Buckbeak barely scratched him, and he acted as though he'd lost an arm. He milked that little scratch for all it was worth. And you! In potions! Making me and Ron help him!" Harry crossed his arms in disgust. "You really were a prick back then."

"Careful, Mr. Potter," Snape warned.

"Just telling it like it is," Harry said coolly. "You just kept feeding into his superiority complex. He was trying to get Hagrid fired. His father tried to get Buckbeak killed. And he almost succeeded! Would have if it hadn't been for – " Harry stopped himself just in time.

"If it hadn't been for what?" Snape questioned.

"That's something we won't get to for a bit yet," Harry said uncomfortably. "I think I'd rather wait. Hey, wasn't that around the time of Neville's boggart?" That put a smile back on Harry's face. "Let's talk about _that_."

It was Snape's turn to cross his arms over his chest, and he peered down his nose at Harry. "Found that funny, did you?"

Harry couldn't help but snicker. "Yeah, I did. I mean, who wouldn't? Mean old Professor Snape, wearing a dress, with a vulture on his head, and carrying a huge red handbag."

Snape let him have his little humorous moment. "Yes, yes, very amusing. Though I noticed that Mr. Longbottom continued to shake with terror at the mere sight of me." That thought gave him some comfort.

"True," Harry agreed. Neville _had _continued to be afraid of Snape, but he'd certainly come into his own over the last year, hadn't he?

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, what did _you _see when _you _confronted the boggart?"

"I didn't. Professor Lupin wouldn't let me. I thought it was because he thought I was too weak. I'd passed out from the Dementors, you know? But he told me later that he stopped me because he assumed my boggart would turn into Voldemort, and he thought the class would go mad if Voldemort turned up."

"Was he wrong?"

"Well, I guess we'll never know for sure, because I wasn't allowed to try, but I was thinking more about dementors than Voldemort."

"Hmm. They frightened you that much?"

"There were pretty horrible. And they were fresh on my mind. And when I was near one, I heard my mum screaming."

Snape hadn't been aware of that, and he looked down at the young man sympathetically. "Is that why you fell off your broom in the match?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "They were there, and it was so cold, and I could hear mum, and I just . . . let go."

"_That_, to me, was frightening."

"Scared me little bit, too. That was the match that Slytherin wimped out of because of Draco's _injury_," Harry said, adding air quotes around the word.

"I think we've exhausted that topic," Snape offered.

"Yeah, me too." He certainly didn't want to sit around talk about Draco Malfoy. "Sir, would it be all right if I came to see you on Christmas day? Just for a moment? I . . . um, I got you something, and I'd like to bring it down."

"That was unnecessary, Mr. Potter."

"I know. It was just something I wanted to do. So, would it be all right?"

Snape considered his request. Having Potter visit him on Christmas day would definitely fall outside the bounds of a teacher/student relationship. Especially if he entertained the boy in his rooms, as he was currently thinking about doing. Still, he could control himself and act the professional that he was. And Potter looked so hopeful.

"That would be acceptable," he finally said. "If you have no other plans and would like to join me for tea, you could come around five."

"I'd like that," Harry said with a genuine smile. "I'd like that very much. So I guess I won't see you until then?"

"Likely not," Snape said. Seeing Potter every day would be very pleasant, indeed, but the test of his resolve was easier when he only saw the temptation two or three times a week.

"Okay," Harry said. "I guess I can wait until then. Enjoy your free time until then." Harry stood up and made his way to the door.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget your cat," Snape said, gesturing at Dora, who had curled up and gone to sleep on the book shelf.

"Oh," Harry said, blushing. "Right. Come on, furball," he said to Dora as he scooped her off the shelf. "Good night, Professor."

"Professor?" Harry called into the empty classroom. "Professor, it's me, Harry." No one answered. Harry looked at his watch. Three minutes before five. Maybe Snape had meant for him to go to his office? Harry crossed the classroom and knocked twice on the door to Snape's office.

"Professor? Are you in there?"

When there was no response, Harry tried the handle. Locked. He knocked again and waited a reasonable amount of time before concluding that Snape wasn't in there, either. That left only Snape's quarters as an option. He'd been in Snape's quarters that one time, and knew that access could be obtained through his office, but the office door was locked, and Snape wasn't responding to his pounding. (He pounded one more time, just to make sure.)

Confused, Harry scratched his head. He was sure the professor had said five o'clock. So where was he? There was no point in staying here in the empty classroom, so Harry left, searching for inspiration.

And while he didn't find inspiration, he did find the Bloody Baron.

At five past five, Snape began to get annoyed. Couldn't the boy be on time for _anything_? Though that was hardly fair – Harry had been quite punctual to all of their meetings and extra potions lessons. Perhaps he was just running a little late.

At twenty past five, Snape's annoyance was turning to anger. He'd invited the boy into his home, and this was how the irritating little beast repaid him? He hadn't even had the decency to send word that he'd been delayed or changed his mind?

Snape had just seriously considered casting an incendio on the present he'd very foolishly procured for Potter when a timid knock sounded on his door. Snape strode angrily toward the door and ripped it open.

"Aha!" said Harry, not noticing the thunderous look on his professor's face. "Found you!"

Surprised by this announcement, Snape could only say, "What?"

"I went to your classroom and your office. I just assumed that's where you'd be, since that's where we always meet. But you weren't there. Obviously," Harry added with a shy grin. "I knocked on your office door, but you didn't answer. I thought you must have another door to your quarters, but I had no idea where it was, so I wasn't sure what to do."

Relief was washing over Snape – the boy hadn't blown him off after all. And he'd cast a silencing spell on his quarters last night, when Peeves and the Bloody Baron had conducted a shouting match at two a.m., which explained why he hadn't heard the boy knocking. "And how did you find me?"

"I ran into the Bloody Baron – or rather, _through_ the Bloody Baron. I convinced him to help me find you."

"And he did?" Snape asked, rather surprised.

"Yup," Harry said proudly. "I convinced him that we had a meeting, and he led me here."

"My apologies for making this so difficult. I should have been more specific with my invitation. I am glad that you persisted and located me."

Harry smiled. "Me, too. Happy Christmas, Professor!"

"And to you, Mr. Potter. Please, come in."

Harry entered, and before he could think about the advisability of it, he was asking Snape, "So, am I the first student you've ever brought into your room?" It was a fairly innocent question, but Snape, still on edge from his doubts, didn't interpret it quite the way Harry had intended.

"Just what are you asking me, Potter?" he snapped out. "Are you wondering if I'm in the habit of bringing students back here? Perhaps you think I carry on illicit relationships with students all the time?"

"No," Harry said quickly, taken aback by the man's anger. "I'm sorry, sir. That's not what I meant at all. I know better, don't I? I only . . . I just feel sort of honored to be allowed in here, because I imagine, you being such a private person and all, that you're not in the habit of meeting with students here or anything." Feeling very wrong-footed all of a sudden and very, very stupid, Harry took a step back toward the door, not really understanding how he'd upset the professor, but very aware that he had. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe this whole thing was doomed, given Harry's difficulty with filtering his thoughts and Snape's prickly nature. Maybe he should just leave here now, before he said anything worse and completely ruined whatever small chance he had to make something with this man. "I didn't mean to upset you." He took one more step back toward the door, surreptitiously searching for the handle with a hand behind his back.

Snape could have kicked himself. Look what he'd done to the boy: he looked like a frightened rabbit, ready to bolt at a move from the predator that had it cornered. Having Harry here in his room must have disconcerted him more than he'd thought. "No," he said softly, "it is I who must apologize. Of course you didn't mean that. I don't know what is wrong with me today. Please. Won't you come in?"

Smiling weakly, glad that he hadn't ruined this, Harry took a tentative step forward.

"Have you had a good day, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, keeping his voice gentle.

"It's been all right," Harry said. He'd woken to the usual presents from the usual people on his bed. After he'd opened them, he'd gone back to bed for a while with a book. He'd had a shower and a late breakfast, then he'd gone down to see Hagrid for a long visit. Then he'd spent a ridiculous amount of time deciding what to wear down here, before making his way to the dungeon. "And you, sir? How has your day been?"

"It has been very quiet," Snape said. "Just the way I like it. Shall we sit? Tea is ready."

Harry came closer, and Snape very gently took him by the elbow and led him to the table. He pulled Harry's chair out for him and, after he'd seated the boy, took his own chair across the table. "Please, eat," Snape urged.

Harry did, but he couldn't have told anyone later what he ate, as he was hardly paying attention, using all of his energy in the effort not to say or do anything that would embarrass himself. He supposed that he and Snape spoke while they ate, but he really couldn't remember any of their conversation either.

After they'd eaten, Snape suggested that they retire to the sitting area. "Would you like a drink?"

"Um – a drink?" Harry repeated.

Snape smiled at him, understanding immediately what Harry was struggling with. The young man had likely never imbibed any alcohol. "Yes," he said, "a drink. Have you never – ?"

Harry blushed. He felt like such a child around this man. But lying about this wouldn't be very productive – one drink, and Snape would likely understand just how inexperienced he was in this area. "No."

"You are of age," Snape noted. "We shall start small."

Snape would teach him to drink. Just as he looked forward to teaching him so many other things, once the time was right. He poured Scotch into two glasses, two fingers for him and one for Harry. He handed the drink to Harry and said, "Sip. Slowly."

They both sat before the fire. Harry took one small sip of the amber liquid and felt it's warm glow slide down his throat. "Mmmm," he said, closing his eyes in enjoyment. "Oh, that's really good."

He opened his eyes to find Snape staring at him hungrily, and he blushed furiously. "Sorry," he squeaked, and he set his glass down hurriedly on the table.

"Do not be sorry," Snape said, his voice gravelly. "Just remember – moderation."

Harry nodded. For a moment, he was unable to gather his thoughts, but then he remembered why he was here. "Oh, I brought you something." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and removed an envelope. It had gotten a little crinkled, so he smoothed it out before handing it over to Snape with a hopeful smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Snape said sincerely.

"Happy Christmas."

Snape nodded at his greeting, then slit the envelope open. He removed the thin slips of paper that it contained and studied them.

"I didn't know if you liked the theater," Harry said, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers. "I thought you might. And I thought I might, as well. I've never been," he added needlessly. "I know you think that I'm going to 'come to my senses' or something before I leave here, but I wanted to show you that I have every intention of still being here in June. You see, the tickets are for a show in June. If you don't like the theater, or if you'd rather see a different show, I can probably exchange them for something else." Harry was aware that he'd crossed over the babbling line some time ago, but he couldn't seem to stop. Finally, Snape saved him.

"No, these are . . . this is wonderful. I like the theater very much. I have not had many opportunities to indulge that particular interest in the last several years. Thank you, Harry. I look forward to introducing you to the theater."

Harry smiled, pleased that he'd been able to please Snape. "Like you're going to introduce me to alcohol?" he teased, picking up his glass again and taking another small sip.

"I look forward to introducing you to so many things, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his voice rich with promise.

Harry swallowed his scotch wrong and coughed it up again. By the time he got his breath back, he was blushing to the roots of his hair and beyond.

Snape smiled at him. "Thank you for your gift. It is much appreciated."

"You're welcome," Harry said, taking another small sip and making sure it stayed put this time. He smiled proudly when he was successful.

"I have something for you as well," Snape said. He held up a hand and summoned the box from his desk. He presented it to Harry.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, looking at the large square, flat box in his lap, feeling gooey inside. Snape had gotten him a present! "You didn't have to do that!"

"Au contraire," Snape said. "It is tradition, I believe, for presents to be exchanged. Exchanged, not just accepted."

"Well, I wouldn't have minded. But thank you," Harry said, stroking the box lovingly. "This is very thoughtful."

"You cannot know that if you don't open it."

Harry felt himself blushing again. Slowly he peeled the paper off the box, then lifted the lid. What he found inside looked like a brown leather journal. He lifted it out of the box, set the wrappings on the floor, and turned the cover. It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at.

They were letters, letters bound together in a leather cover. Letters from his mother. To Severus. As Harry paged through, the handwriting changed, from that of a child to the more mature script that he recognized as his mother's. The first letter was dated when Lily and Severus were both eight, and they continued to the last letter, which was dated September 21, 1981. He looked up at Severus in wonder.

"Letters that your mother wrote to me. When she was growing up, she and her family used to holiday at the seaside in the summer. She would write to me while she was away, two or three times a week. After we . . . after _I_ angered your mother, the letters stopped, but she began to write to me again when she was pregnant. This was after I'd seen her in the Muggle shop buying the album. I'm not sure that she'd completely forgiven me, but I think she was perhaps working up to it. These letters will provide you with insight into her character, in her own words – what she was doing, what she was feeling. How much she loved you and wanted you, how proud she was of you."

Harry hugged the book to his chest, tears forming in his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered. "Are you sure you want to part with these? You've saved them all these years. They obviously mean a lot to you."

"I have copies of them," Snape assured him. "But you should have the originals. They were your mother's, written with her own hand."

"I can't tell you how much this means to me," Harry said, rubbing the cover of the book reverently. He stood up, suddenly very anxious to leave here, to immerse himself in these little bits of his mother.

Snape stood up as well, understanding what the young man was feeling. "Thank you for coming here today. I understand if you would like to retire to your room now."

Harry smiled gratefully and moved toward the door. "Thank you for having me for tea. And for this," he said, indicating the book in his arms.

"You are most welcome. Thank you for the tickets."

"Don't mention it."

Harry was at the door now. Snape put his hand on the knob, but before he opened it, he leaned in close and allowed himself one final gift. His lips moved over the young man's, tasting the bit of scotch he'd drunk earlier. When he forced himself away, he started to speak, but Harry stopped him.

"Please don't say you shouldn't have done that."

Snape cupped Harry's jaw in both hands. "I will let it go without saying then," he agreed before kissing him again.

"I'm sorry I'm not very good at that," Harry said self-consciously the next time they stopped for breath.

"If you only knew how intoxicating I find your innocence," Snape said, "you would be running very far and very fast. But you should definitely go. Because I should _not_ have done that."

"All right," Harry agreed softly. "Thank you. Happy Christmas, Severus." He went up on his toes and kissed Snape on the cheek, then quietly slipped out into the corridor.


	15. Chapter 15

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

Chapter Fifteen

Harry had spent most of his time with the Weasleys sitting in a quiet corner with a small smile on his face. This thing he had with Severus filled him with a quiet joy. He had an urge to tell everyone what was happening to him – joy such as this should be shared with others. He knew, however, that most, if not all, of the people here would not feel the same emotion he was feeling should he suddenly announce that he was in a more-than-platonic relationship with a man twenty years his senior, a man who, two short years ago, he had hated and who had hated him with an unrivaled passion. He wondered if his friends and adopted family would _ever_ accept that Severus Snape had become important to him, and he admitted to himself some fear that at some point, he was going to have to make an impossible decision.

Hermione dropped onto the sofa next to him, and Harry smiled at her.

"You've been so quiet today," she noted.

"I'm okay," he assured her.

"I didn't think you weren't," she explained. "You don't look sad, or like something's wrong. In fact, you look rather happy."

"And that has you concerned?" Harry joked.

"Not concerned," Hermione said, not willing to be put off. "I'd like nothing better than to see you happy. You know that. I'm just wondering what has you in this mood."

"A bloke can't just be happy at the holidays?"

"Course he can. But you're . . . funny. You're hiding something. I'm not worried, because it's obviously something good, or you wouldn't look so . . . satisfied. Is it something that you want to share?"

Harry looked into her clear brown eyes and struggled with himself. "I _would_ like to," he said slowly, "but I think it's too early."

"All right. I can respect that," she said, and she could. She wouldn't pry. "But can you tell me if it's a some_thing_ or a some_one_?"

"Some_one_," Harry said with a shy smile.

Hermione smiled back, obviously pleased that her friend had found someone.

A sudden thought occurred to Harry. She didn't know – know one knew. He should probably say at least this much, but he wasn't sure how one went about outing himself to his closest friends. "Hermione?"

"Yes, love?"

"There is one thing I should tell you."

"Okay," she prompted when he didn't continue.

"Do you want to take a walk outside?"

"Outside?" she repeated, surprised. "It's a little co– Of course," she stopped herself. Harry wanted privacy. Obviously what he wanted to tell her was something he didn't want overheard. "Let's go."

A warming charm later, they walked across the Weasley yard, side by side. Harry blew out a quick breath, then said, "The someone, Hermione? It's a him, not a her."

"Oh," Hermione said, surprised by this news. She'd never even suspected Harry might have this particular leaning – all of his infatuations had always involved girls. "Oh. Okay," she said, forcing herself to keep talking, lest he think she was shocked or appalled by his news. "I wasn't aware – "

"Neither was I," Harry confessed. "I've never felt this way about a bloke before. Hell, I've never felt this way before full stop. I was surprised by the fact that he was a man, believe me. But it just feels so . . . right, you know?"

Hermione nodded. She knew. And she hoped Harry had found for himself what she and Ron had found. "I'm glad for you, Harry. And does he feel the same way about you?"

"Yeah, he does," Harry said with another of his shy smiles which Hermione was beginning to find quite adorable. "We've talked. We're going to wait until the school year is over and then figure out where we go next."

"Oh, Harry! I'm so happy for you! And you can't tell me who he is? I'd really like to meet him."

"It's . . . kind of complicated. But I swear, as soon as I can, I'll tell you everything. It's really great being able to tell someone, though."

"So has this been going on for a while?"

Harry shrugged. "It started out innocently enough. Just talking. We have a lot in common, and we've spent a lot of time together kind of hashing things out. But the more time we spent together, the closer we've become."

"This is great, Harry. I'm thrilled for you. Have you progressed beyond the innocent . . .?"

Harry blushed, which was even more adorable, Hermione decided. "Just some kissing. He wants to take it slow. Which is okay with me, because I know nothing . . . well, let's just say I've never . . . even with a girl, you know?"

Hermione smiled encouragingly. "You'll figure it out," she said. "Oh, look. There's Ron."

Ron had peered out of the house and into the yard, looking for them apparently.

"Can I tell him?" Hermione asked as they turned back toward the house.

"Will he be . . . okay with me, you know, seeing a bloke?"

"You know, I don't think we've ever really discussed it. I don't think it will be a problem. He loves you, and he wants you to be happy. We all do, Harry. You deserve it more than anyone else I know."

"Use your judgment, then," Harry said. "If you think he'll be okay, and if the moment seems right . . ."

"Hi," Harry said with a warm smile when Snape opened the door. "I hope it's okay that I came to your quarters. I just wanted to tell you I was back. Fudge?" he asked, indicating the plate of delicious treats that Molly Weasley had sent him back to school with.

"Of course it is all right. Molly, I presume?" he asked, eyeing the plate with interest. He really shouldn't. But what the hell, it was Christmas, right? He selected one rich chocolate confection. "You must be a bit more discrete when the students return, but should you ever have any real need, you may feel free to come here. Would you like to come in?"

Harry's smile widened. He'd been hoping he'd be invited in. "I'd like that." Harry entered the room and immediately spotted the stack of marking the other man had apparently been working on. "Oh, you're marking. I don't want to interrupt."

Snape placed the fudge beside the stack of parchment. He'd use it as a reward when he'd finished this endless marking. "I was due for a break. Would you like tea?"

"No, thank you. I won't bother you." He placed the tray of fudge on the desk and slipped his hands into his pockets, somewhat nervous about what he had to share. "I just wanted to tell you I was back. And, I told Hermione that I was involved with someone."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I didn't tell her who. I didn't think you'd want that. But I did tell her you were a 'he.'"

"And how did she react to that news?"

"She was okay with it," Harry said, his surprised happiness at this news apparent. "Not sure how Ron will react."

"He's your friend," Snape said. "He may be surprised, but I doubt that it will cause any rift in your relationship."

"Hope so," Harry said, relieved. He hadn't been sure how Snape would feel about him spreading the news around, even if Harry wasn't naming names. "I'll let you get back to it. I don't want to be the cause of some poor first year not having her spirit crushed by your scathing commentary on her homework when she returns from break."

Snape escorted Harry back to the door and opened it for him.

"Oh, did I tell you I was taking my Charms NEWT on the thirty-first?" Harry asked, stalling his departure.

"Yes, you told me."

"Oh, sorry. You fluster me so, I sometimes can't remember my own name," Harry said with a foolish fluttering of his eyelashes and a really bad Gone With the Wind southern belle accent.

"Go," Snape said with an amused smile, "before I fluster you into detention."

"Right, sir. See you soon."

"I am holding my breath in anticipation, Mr. Potter."

"Git," Harry said fondly as Snape closed the door in his face.

Harry turned to begin his trek out of the dungeon and came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Harry said pleasantly. "Have a good Christmas?"

"Potter," the blonde spit. "What are you doing down here?"

"Just had to talk with Professor Snape about something. Have a great day."

Whistling, Harry continued on his way as steely gray eyes bore into his back.

The almost immediate knock on his door was only a little surprising – Potter's tray of fudge sat conspicuously on his desk. He chuckled and opened the door, "Forget something else –"

His words died in his throat. Draco Malfoy, not Harry Potter, stood on his doorstep.

"Mr. Malfoy. What can I do for you?"

"May I speak with you, sir?"

"Now, Mr. Malfoy? I am quite busy."

"This will only take a moment, I assure you," the blonde young may said earnestly.

Snape sighed in defeat and opened his door wider. This was why he didn't allow students into his personal quarters. You let one in, and like a horde of stray cats, another followed, and another, and another, until you were over-run by the flea-bitten varmints.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?" he asked pointedly as Draco stared interestedly around the room.

"I was just wondering – oh, fudge! That looks delightful!"

It was obvious that the boy expected to be asked to help himself. Snape huffed another small sigh and said, "Please, help yourself." He wouldn't tell him that a _Weasley_ had made the fudge. He'd save that for after the twit had eaten it.

"Thank you, sir." Draco selected a white chocolate confection with what appeared to be walnuts. He bit into it daintily, then closed his eyes to better savor the flavor, tossing his head back slightly to show off the elegant lines of his neck. "Oh," he moaned once he'd swallowed, "that is simply divine!" Looking at Snape now, he licked a finger clean of melty chocolate.

Snape nearly choked. How blatant the boy was being! What exactly was going on here? "I believe you were wondering something?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. I wondered if you had plans for New Year's Eve."

"It is just another day, as far as I am concerned," Snape answered. "I never make plans for that particular evening."

"Good. I was hoping we might spend it together," Draco invited with a put-upon shy tilt of his head.

"And why would we do that?"

"I am . . . interested in you, Severus. I find you fascinating. I would like to get to know you . . . better."

Okay, that was just enough. "Mr. Malfoy, this discussion is entirely inappropriate. Spending time that way is far outside the bounds of a student-teacher relationship."

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with Potter," Draco said petulantly.

"Potter has a wish to become an auror. For that, he needs potions. You know what an abysmal potions student he was. I am simply assisting him in catching up with the curriculum, some of which he missed due to his absence last year and some of which he simply never troubled himself to learn while he was a young student here."

"Hmph," Draco huffed in disbelief. It was clear to him that there was more going on here than a teacher assisting a hopelessly backward student. "But you hate him."

"Hate is a strong word," Snape observed. "And one I like to reserve for a particular individual who did not survive the war. Now, if that is all, Mr. Malfoy, I must return to my work."

"You can call me Draco, you know. I'd like that."

"That, too, would be inappropriate. Good evening, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco, obviously miffed, took his leave. After he'd closed the door to Severus' quarters, he stood a moment in the hallway. Snape was _his_. He would not lose, _again,_ to Potter. Not this time.

Harry's Charms NEWT was behind him. He'd stopped in to Snape's office when he'd returned to Hogwarts to share with the man how he'd felt he'd done, and he'd secured an invitation to see in the new year with his significant other, under two conditions: he came down under the Invisibility Cloak and he stayed out of Snape's danger zone. Harry flushed with embarrassment and arousal and promised to behave.

They'd played chess and drank a little scotch and talked until the hour had chimed midnight. And then, despite his promise, Harry stole a little kiss, thanked his host for the lovely evening, and returned to his common room, nearly floating with happiness.


	16. Chapter 16

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Note: **I've had two different reviewers suggest that I put an indicator between changing scenes. I actually _had_ been using a line of asterisks to indicate scene breaks, and after receiving those two reviews, I went back and looked at the posted chapters. The asterisks WERE NOT THERE! If anyone has seen stray asterisks laying around, they likely fell out of this story. Anyway, my apologies - I had the best of intentions, which were apparently thwarted by this site. It seems to like #'s, so I'll switch to those from here on out. My thanks to the reviewers for pointing this out so I could fix it.

Thanks, also, to _everyone_ who has reviewed. They are much appreciated.

There are 31 total chapters to this thing, which means we are now over halfway to the end. This seems like a good time to renew the warning that this is a male on male fic. That's probably become obvious, but it will get a bit graphic in a couple of places (**this chapter**, for one). It's not too late to turn back.

**_##########_**

Chapter Sixteen

Harry had slept until ten, then lay in bed debating whether he should eat a late breakfast, or whether he should wait until lunch, even though he was a bit hungry already. He smiled to himself to think that this was the biggest problem in his life currently. After a full-body stretch, he decided that he would shower, then visit Severus (he'd taken to calling the man "Severus" in his head). If he played his cards right, he'd get an invitation to lunch.

Whistling, he jumped out of bed and headed to the shower.

**##########**

Harry's day wasn't going quite as he'd planned. Severus was nowhere in evidence. Harry had pushed his office door open, warmed by the fact that he'd been added to the wards, but bummed when he discovered the man wasn't there. He'd knocked on the door to Severus' quarters, but got no answer. Not wanting to push his luck, he hadn't even tried to open the door to the man's private domain. Disappointed, and still hungry, Harry turned to go.

And then he spotted the plate of his favorite biscuits sitting prominently in the middle of Severus' desk. Severus had been expecting him! He knew Severus wouldn't mind if he took one. Or two. Or all of them. Harry swept the biscuits into the inner pocket of his robe and left the office humming.

He reached into the pocket for his first biscuit, but before he got it out, Draco Malfoy appeared out of the shadows. Strange. He'd seen Malfoy hanging around in the corridor when he'd come down here. Didn't the ferret have anything better to do with his time?

Harry made it to the entrance hall and ran into Professor McGonagall.

"Happy new year, Mr. Potter," she said pleasantly.

"And the same to you, Professor," Harry said with a smile. "Are you having a nice holiday?"

"I am, indeed. I was just about to have some lunch. Or a very late breakfast. Would you care to join me?"

Harry looked at his watch. "I thought it was too early for lunch?"

Professor McGonagall looked down her long, pointed nose at him. "Being Headmistress has its perks, Mr. Potter."

Harry chuckled. "I imagine it does. I'd love to join you for lunch. Or breakfast."

McGonagall gestured at the doors to the Great Hall with a grand sweep of her arm. "Lead the way, good sir."

Harry nodded his acceptance of her invitation and headed through the doors.

**##########**

Severus had always prided himself on remaining collected under circumstances that would have sent others running and screaming. Therefore, it was difficult to admit, even to himself, that the sudden appearance of a house-elf in his sitting room startled him enough that he actually flinched. He'd been reading, quietly and alone, when suddenly – he was not alone. Harry's house-elf, Kreacher, head bowed, hands wringing, stood before him.

"Kreacher?" he said.

"Kreacher apologizes for bothering Master Snape, but Kreacher is not knowing what else to do about Master Harry."

"Is something wrong with Harry?" Severus asked, setting aside his book and standing up to tower over the obviously concerned elf. "What is it? What is wrong?"

"Kreacher is not knowing. Master Harry is in bed, moaning. He told Kreacher to go away when Kreacher asked Master Harry how he could help."

"Take me there," Severus ordered. Kreacher took hold of his hand, and they both disappeared.

**##########**

Harry was on his bed, curled up under the covers, facing the wall, when Snape appeared beside his bed. Snape released Kreacher's wizened hand and stepped to the bed's edge.

"Harry!" Severus said. "What is wrong?"

Harry moaned, his body rocking back and forth on the bed, and curled into a tighter ball.

"Is it something you have eaten?" Severus guessed, a logical conclusion based on what he could see of the boy's symptoms.

"No," Harry groaned, a long, drawn-out, lustful sound.

"Please tell me what is wrong. I cannot help you if I don't know what is wrong." He sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. The boy was shaking violently, and heat rolled off him in waves. Suspecting a fever, Snape lay a hand on Harry's forehead – it was clammy and hot. "You have a fever. You must have contracted the flu."

"No," Harry moaned again. "Not the flu. I think – I think I've been poisoned."

Instantly alarmed, Severus stood and yanked the blanket off of the bed, intent on examining Harry completely. He was more than a little surprised to find that the young man was naked, his right hand holding tightly to his erect penis.

"Noooooo," Harry groaned. "No, don't – don't look. Please. I can't – Can you make it stop?"

"Make what stop, Harry? You must tell me what is happening. What exactly are you feeling?"

"I ate some biscuits that I took from your office earlier," Harry gasped out. "Sorry, but I went down to see you and you weren't there. There was a plate of biscuits on your desk. You know how much I love those biscuits – "

"Harry, enough with the biscuits. What is going on?"

"I ate the biscuits. Then I started to feel really funny. I got hot and sweaty. I thought I was coming down with something, so I laid down. But then . . . then I . . . I . . ."

"Tell me, Harry," Snape urged in his most coaxing tone.

"I'm so horny, Professor, and I can't stop wanking!"

Well that was unexpected. "Are there any biscuits left?" If the biscuits had been dosed with a poison, he should be able to detect it.

"On the desk," Harry said, his hand beginning to move faster in a pistoning motion on his cock. "Oh, it hurts!"

Severus approached the desk. As he did, he noticed Kreacher, who was looking with great concern at his stricken master. Suspecting that Harry would prefer that as few people (or creatures) as possible see him in this condition, he barked, "Kreacher! Leave us!"

"But Master Harry . . ." the old elf began to protest.

"I will care for Master Harry," Snape promised. "If you want to help, go to my laboratory and retrieve the bottle labeled 'Essence of Aloe' which you will find in the cabinet in the back right corner of the room. Bring it here, place it on the table, then give us privacy."

Kreacher nodded and blinked from the room.

While Harry whimpered and writhed on the bed, Snape performed a revealing spell on the one biscuit he found on the desk. The results confirmed a suspicion that had been growing in the potions master's mind: Harry had been dosed with a powerful lust potion, specifically Destino Lubido. It was a complex potion, beyond the capabilities of all but one student currently enrolled at Hogwarts. But _who_ had done this was not as important as assisting Harry through what would be a difficult next few hours.

He returned to the bed. "How many of the biscuits did you eat, Harry?"

Harry was close, Snape thought, to reaching orgasm, but his hand slowed somewhat, though its rhythm remained steady. "Nine or ten. I don't know."

Damn teenaged boys and their appetites! "All right. You've been dosed with Destino Lubido. It's a directed lust potion. It is going to remain in your system for some time. And while it does, you will suffer an uncontrollable urge to find release."

Harry started to roll toward him, but Severus sat on the edge of the bed and put an urgent hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "No!" he said. "Do not look at me. A component of this potion is an unstoppable desire to have intercourse with the next person that you see. If you look at me, or anyone else, now, you will not stop until we have . . . until we have had sex."

Harry moaned, "Oh, please!" like this was exactly what he wanted.

"No, Harry, I cannot allow that," Snape said soothingly, "especially not like this. Do you trust me?"

"You know I do," Harry panted out.

Snape took up his wand again and cast a blindfolding spell on the anguished young man. "There. You may open your eyes, if you like."

Behind him, Snape heard Kreacher reappear in the room, and then seconds later, pop out again.

Harry did open his eyes. "I can't see!" he exclaimed.

"I have cast a temporary blindness spell on you, so that you do not mistakenly look at me."

"Oh!" Harry's groan came from all the way down in his balls, which ached for release. "Can't you make this stop? I've already wanked four times, and it hurts!" His hand was speeding up again on his already-abused flesh.

"I cannot make it stop. The potion must work its way out of your system. But I do have something that will help."

He left the bed long enough to retrieve the potion Kreacher had brought them.

"Give me your hand," he instructed when he returned to the bed.

Obviously reluctantly, Harry pulled his hand away from his engorged member. When he did, Snape could see how red and chafed he was, and he winced in silent sympathy. He took Harry's hand into his own and poured some of the oil from the potions bottle into the palm. "This will help to ease the way. It also has healing properties, which should soothe your skin."

Harry's hand returned to its previous occupation, now making squelching sounds with the liquid lubrication. "Oh, that's good," Harry groaned, and with several quick strokes, he brought himself to completion, rolling onto his side again as he began to spurt weakly onto the sheets.

It was many moments before Harry could calm his breathing enough to speak again. "That was the fifth time!" he anguished. "I've got nothing left!" He rolled onto his back again.

Because he knew that Harry could not see him, Snape took a peek at the young man's genitals. He was still semi-hard, and his reddened skin glistened with the sheen of the healing potion. "Do you wish me to cover you?" he asked, thinking to preserve Harry's modesty as much as possible.

Harry sighed. "I'm so hot. And what's the point? I guess you've seen it all by now, right?" The red stain on Harry's cheeks told just how much this was bothering the innocent young man, despite his careless words. "Is it over?"

"No," Snape said regretfully. "I suspect that you have at least another hour before the potion is completely eradicated from your system."

"Why do these things happen to me? This is so embarrassing!"

"I know it is difficult, but try not to feel embarrassed. I will do what I can to assist you. Would you perhaps like me to cast a cleaning charm? And maybe a cooling charm?"

Harry sighed, the sound much happier this time. "That sounds wonderful."

Not long after Snape had completed those charms, Harry groaned and whimpered. "Oh, not again!"

Severus looked down, and sure enough, Harry's cock was beginning to lengthen and fill again. Severus could no longer ignore the effect that this situation was having on his own body: he'd been half-hard since he'd seen Harry lying there "pleasuring" himself, and now his own erection was painful in his too-tight pants.

Harry's hand returned to his erection and clamped around it, but he immediately let go. "My hand!" he moaned. "It's cramped." He tried his left hand, but since the right was his dominant side, he couldn't sustain the pressure and the rhythm that was required.

"Wait, Harry," Snape instructed. He barked for Kreacher, gave instructions on another potion he wanted brought to them, then took it from the house-elf when he complied. "Give me your left hand." Harry extended his left hand, and Snape poured more of the healing balm into his palm. "Easy now," he urged, nudging the hand back toward Harry's groin. "Now the right." When Harry presented him with his aching right hand, Snape took up the other potion that Kreacher had brought, squirted a dab into his own hand, and began to rub it into Harry's aching wrist and fingers. The relief of the pain and stiffness was immediate.

"Oh, you're a genius," Harry purred, and he replaced his left hand with his right. "Oh, better!" Gone was the pain from having his hand held tightly in the same position, and as he massaged the healing potion into his sore and tired prick, he couldn't help but feel grateful that he had a potions master in his life.

He turned to toward Snape, though he couldn't see him, and said, "I don't suppose you . . ."

Snape had no doubt about what the boy was asking him to do. And it was with a lot of regret that he said, "That would not be appropriate."

Harry sighed, this time disappointed. "Thought you'd say that." And he set to in earnest, finishing what he'd started with a series of grunts.

"I had no idea how much this hurt when there was nothing there to come out," Harry said, pausing to regain his breath.

"The time between urges should begin to lengthen," Snape informed him. "You should rest."

Harry closed his eyes, though his world was already dark.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape said quietly.

"Hmmm?"

"I just want you to know how . . . tempting . . . your offer was. Were I not such an iron-willed individual, I just might have taken you up on it."

Harry smiled happily and enjoyed this lull between storms.

**##########**

Snape stayed with Harry until the boy fell asleep, exhausted, ninety minutes later. He'd orgasmed an amazing five additional times, the last two of which were completely dry. A combination of Snape's potions and his cooling and cleaning charms made the unpleasant process just a bit more bearable, but both men were feeling more than a little frazzled by the end.

When Harry had been asleep for fifteen minutes, and Severus was sure that the ordeal was over, he cast one last cleaning spell on the sleeping form, removed the blindfold charm, and covered the young man with a blanket. He then called for Kreacher to return him to his room – it wouldn't do to be caught leaving a student's room at this time of the night – er, morning. After the elf left him in his own quarters, Snape fell into his own bed, too exhausted and emotionally wrung out even to indulge in the bit of self-pleasure he'd been sure he would require before being able to sleep.

**##########**

"How are you feeling?" Severus asked the very subdued Harry Potter sitting opposite him in his sitting room.

His eyes on his lap, Harry stroked a vibrantly pink Dora, who slept curled into a tight ball. "I'm all right. Tired." Indeed, the dark smudges under Harry's eyes spoke to this truth.

"You went through quite an ordeal last night," Severus reminded him. "Your body will take time to recover."

"I guess," Harry mumbled to his cat.

"Is there something wrong?" Severus asked softly.

Harry felt color suffuse his face. He couldn't believe Severus had to ask. Did he have no idea how excruciatingly embarrassing the whole of last night had been? He'd wanked, unable to stop himself – he'd actually _come_ in his own hand, in Snape's presence, _countless times_! He was surprised he'd been able to make himself come down here today, following the instructions left for him in the note he'd found from Snape when he woke in the late morning.

"Harry?" Snape prodded when no answer was forthcoming.

"It's just . . . last night . . . I . . ."

"Look at me," Snape ordered gently.

"I don't think I can," Harry admitted.

Snape left his chair and knelt next to Harry's chair. He used one large hand to scritch Dora's ears and the other to tip Harry's chin up. The brilliant green eyes flitted here and there, landing everywhere but on Snape's own.

Snape ran a finger over one scarlet cheek. "You are embarrassed."

Harry closed his eyes.

"None of what happened last night was your fault," Snape pointed out. "Your reaction to the potion was completely expected, and completely out of your control."

"But you saw," Harry said, his voice rough, "everything."

"I would like to think that my presence, or at least my potions, made your suffering a bit more bearable."

"There's no doubt about that," Harry admitted.

"Then do not be embarrassed. If you had been ill with the wizard's flu, would you be embarrassed if I had stayed with you and assisted you?"

"No, but this . . ."

"I understand," Snape said, and he did. "But it is over, and we will put it behind us."

"Easy for you to say," Harry muttered, but he finally found the courage to look Snape in the eye. The compassion he saw there melted away his reserve, and he smiled at the man. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "For everything you did for me. You did make it better."

"I am glad," Snape rose awkwardly to his feet. He was too old to be kneeling on the floor.

"Now we should turn our attention to determining the culprit. You said you took the biscuits off my desk yesterday morning?"

"Yeah, they were the ones I like so much. You know the ones," Harry said with a shy smile.

"I know. There were no biscuits on my desk when I left my office at eight. Someone placed them there after that."

"They were obviously intended for you. Who has access to your office?"

"All of my Slytherins have access to my office."

"And how many are here now?"

"Six," Severus said. Six Slytherins had stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays. Six. But there was only one who had the ability to brew the lust potion. And only one who had the motivation to feed it to Severus.

"Malfoy," Harry said. "He was outside your office when I left."

"I suspect so," Snape confirmed. "He . . . came to my office two days ago. He . . . wanted to spend New Year's Eve with me."

"He what?" Harry asked, his ire rising immediately. That pointy-faced arsehole was making a move on Severus? "You turned him down, I assume?" Forgetting the fact that Harry had spent New Years's Eve with Severus himself.

"You know I did," Severus pointed out. "I did not suspect that he was obsessed enough to go to these lengths. I am sorry, Harry."

"Sorry? Why should _you_ be sorry? _You _didn't do anything wrong. It was Malfoy. We have to tell the Headmistress! She'll _have _to throw his scrawny arse out of here!"

"Not without proof. We have none currently. I will discretely poke around, see if I can find any evidence that Malfoy brewed the potion or left the biscuits on my desk. I do not expect to find any. Draco Malfoy is a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them."

"He better stay away from you," Harry growled. "He'll not know what hit him if he hurts you."

Severus smiled. "I did not know you were so possessive."

Harry was not amused. "Don't," he snapped. "I've finally got something good, just for me, and he's not gonna take it away."

"You need have no fear in that regard," Severus said solemnly. "Just promise me, Harry, that you will not go after Malfoy. Give me an opportunity to investigate, but don't expect much in the way of proof. He will not have left a obvious trail. Promise me."

"Severus . . ."

"Promise me, Harry. Your future is just beginning. Do not destroy it with an act of revenge."

Harry swallowed down all of the protests he could make. He would trust Severus to take care of this. "All right," he said. "I promise. If you promise to be careful around him. If he did this once, he may try it again."

"I will be extremely careful. Now, the students are due back soon, and I have work to do. Take your furry pile of mischief and leave me be."

"All right. I'll see you on Tuesday night then?"

"Tuesday night," Severus confirmed. "I believe we will be discussing your trip into Hogsmeade under the Invisibility Cloak."

"Oh boy," Harry said with a boyish smile full of bravado that he did not feel. They both knew that the closer they got to actually discussing Sirius Black, the closer they were to Snape's complete hatred of the man. Discussing him could only lead to bad feelings all around, and neither was looking forward to it.


	17. Chapter 17

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

##########

Chapter Seventeen

"So," Snape said, his voice soft and silky and, if you didn't know him, non-threatening, "tell me how your head came to be in Hogsmeade when no part of you had permission to be there."

"Oh," Harry said, startled. "You want to talk about the _second _time I snuck into Hogsmeade?"

Now Snape looked surprised, too. "There was another time?"

"Yeah, earlier in the year."

"Do tell," Snape ordered.

"Well, you know about the map that my dad and his friends made," Harry said. Snape did. He'd seen the map twice: once when he'd confiscated it from Harry when he'd caught him returning from Hogsmeade, and once on Lupin's desk the night that Sirius Black escaped. He'd been amazed both times by what he'd seen. He didn't know where it had originally come from or who had made it, but he'd been very impressed with it. He'd even used it to follow the miscreants into the Whomping Willow. Now, it appeared that he was about to learn its provenance.

"I knew about the map," he admitted. "I was not aware who had made it or how it worked."

"My dad made it with Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew. They made it while they were students here." Snape thought that explained a lot of things about the ability of the four hooligans to move about the school undetected. "I don't know how it works. I mean, I don't know how they charmed the parchment." He pulled said parchment out of a pocket of his robe and spread it open on Snape's desk, tapping his wand lightly to it. "But I do know how to activate it – _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_."

Snape's jaw dropped open as he watched ink spider its way across the previously blank parchment. He hadn't seen it do _that_ before. Harry flipped the map until he came to the portion which showed the very room where the two of them were standing: a dot labeled H. Potter and a dot labeled S. Snape stood close to each other.

"This is incredible," Snape breathed, his amazement at the skill involved outweighing his hatred of the men who had created it. "How did it come into your possession? I never heard Dumbledore mention it."

"I'm not sure he knew about it. Fred and George Weasley gave it to me. They'd stolen it from Filch. He probably confiscated it from my dad or Sirius, and he's had it all these years. They gave it to me that day. I, as you know, wasn't allowed to go into Hogsmeade because my uncle refused to sign my permission form after the way I'd behaved during Aunt Marge's visit. Fred and George felt sorry for me, and passed it on to me. Of course, they didn't know that my father had helped to make it. They never told me how they worked out the spells to make it work, but they shared it with me. I can't believe they gave it to me. Even if they'd memorized all of the hidden passageways, I would have thought that knowing the location of everyone in the school would have been invaluable to someone like Fred and George." Harry flipped the map again to the right spot. "See, there's a hidden passage that leads right into the Honeydukes basement. That's how I got there."

"And what did you do during your little adventure?" Snape asked, tearing his eyes from the map and sitting back down.

"We didn't get to do much. It was snowing that day. We went into the Three Broomsticks to get warm. McGonagall and Hagrid came in with Fudge. They sat close enough to us so that we could hear what they were saying. That was the day I learned that Sirius was my godfather," Harry said quietly. "No one had ever thought I needed to know that. They were friends, he was the best man at mum and dad's wedding, they'd named him my godfather, and no one thought I should know. They talked about how a spy warned Dumbledore that my parents were in danger." Harry looked at Severus here, because of course, now he knew who that spy was. "The Minister explained how they'd gone under the fidelius charm. Everyone thought that Sirius was the secretkeeper and that he betrayed them to Voldemort. Hagrid told how Sirius showed up at the house after – after Voldemort had killed them and wanted to take me and raise me, but Dumbledore had already made other plans. And then Sirius went after Pettigrew and was arrested for his murder and the murders of all those Muggles."

"And only Sirius Black could have survived for ten plus years in that hell hole with his mind intact."

Harry lifted his head quickly, sure that Severus meant that as an insult, but the older man's face was impassive. "Yeah. He spent a lot of time in his animagus form. He said the dementors were confused when he was a dog, and that allowed him to retain his soul."

"And did he tell you why he finally escaped?"

"He saw a picture of the Weasleys in the _Prophet_. They'd gone to Egypt over the summer, and there was a picture in the paper. Scabbers was in the photo, and Sirius recognized him as Pettigrew's animagus form. He knew that I was at Hogwarts, and he feared that Pettigrew would do something to me, so he escaped. He tried to help. He invited me to live with him. I wanted that _so _badly."

"And he gave you the Firebolt, I believe."

"Yes. Although McGonagall took it away from me for a while. Said they had to check it for hexes."

"We did," Snape confirmed. "Rather thoroughly."

"You, too?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Dumbledore made it a group project. We all had a turn trying to discern whether there were any hexes or jinxes on it. I made sure that my investigation took as long as it possibly could, but eventually I had to turn it back over to Minerva to return to you."

"You git," Harry said affectionately. "Well, I got it back in time for the match with Ravenclaw, so that was all right."

"Yes, giving you a faster means to your own doom was such a good idea."

"Hey, it wasn't my fault that the dementors came to the game!" Harry protested. "I certainly didn't _want _to fall off my broom!"

"Do you know why the dementors affected you in that particular way?"

"Remus said it was because I had horrors in my past that others couldn't imagine," Harry said. He was silent for a moment before he confessed, "When the dementors come near me, I hear my mum. Screaming. The night Voldemort came after me. Just before she died."

Snape looked properly horrified by this. "You had told me this before. I cannot imagine how awful that must be."

Harry's smile was tight and unpleasant. "That was the only memory I had of the sound of my mum's voice. I still haven't decided if it's good that I have it or not."

Snape offered no opinion on this: both were equally unpleasant options. "Well, at least you learned to cast your patronus. That had to have been a relief."

"Yeah. Remus was a good teacher. He should have been allowed to come back fourth year. Then we wouldn't have had a fake Moody to contend with."

Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. They were both aware that Remus Lupin had had to leave because Snape had outed him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said after a moment. "That's the past. We're learning from the past here, not getting bogged down in it. We're here now, and that's what matters."

Snape smiled. "Yes. That is what matters. You have not eaten your biscuits," he pointed out. "Are you fearful that they may be tainted?"

"What? Oh, no. I know you checked them," Harry said, and the surety that Snape would never allow something like that to happen to him again warmed his insides. To prove that he trusted Snape to see to his safety, Harry picked up a biscuit and ate it in one mouthful.

"Have you been able to learn anything helpful?" he asked around the crumbs.

"No. As I warned you, Malfoy was very careful. I have not been able to prove that he bought the ingredients to make the potion, or that he brewed the potion, or that he is the one who dosed the biscuits and left them here. I spoke to his house elf, but he has been with the Malfoy family longer than Draco has been alive and would no sooner betray his master than he would seek freedom."

"But you know it's him," Harry stated, frustrated that there was no hard evidence they could bring to the Headmistress.

Snape sighed. "Yes, I know it's him."

"And you're being careful?"

"I am," Snape assured him. "You should, as well. It is getting rather late, and I have potions to make for Madam Pomfrey. I think I will have to call it an evening."

"All right," Harry agreed, brushing crumbs from his lap. "I'll see you on Friday?"

"That you will, Harry. That you will."

**##########**

"So we already covered my clandestine trip into Hogsmeade, right?" Harry said at their next scheduled meeting. The confrontation with Snape after the second time he'd visited the village without permission had been ugly, and he had no wish to relive it.

Snape stared down at the young man before his desk, clearly aware that Harry had no wish to go down this particular memory lane. However, he had a couple of things to say, and he intended to say them.

"You lied to me," he bit out. "Looked straight into my eyes and lied to me."

"Yes," Harry admitted, aware that there was very little point in denying the truth now. "But it's not as though you didn't know I was lying."

"That is beside the point," Snape snapped.

"How can you still be angry about that? I was a kid. I wanted to do what everyone else was doing, and because of my stupid relatives, I wasn't allowed to. So I went anyway. Didn't you ever do anything like that when you were a kid?"

"That is also beside the point," Snape said with a defensive sniff. Of course he had. It would be an unusual teenager that did not rebel against authority at least a little.

Harry smiled, knowing that Snape had something in his past that would make him incredibly hypocritical if he called Harry on this now. Not that that had ever stopped Snape before.

"But I will concede that we have talked enough about your irresponsible trips into Hogsmeade."

Harry rolled his eyes, but let it go. "What else was going on around that time?"

Snape consulted his diary. "Quidditch. Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor."

"Oh yeah," Harry remembered. "Cho. And Draco and his goon buddies pretending to be dementors."

"That was an impressive patronus you cast, Mr. Potter," Snape said sincerely. "That was the very first moment that I began to believe that there was something more to you than what I had always thought."

"Really?" Harry asked, pleased.

"Not that I was going to admit that to anyone at the time."

"And now?" Harry prompted.

Snape looked Harry up and down. "Now I can readily admit that there is much more of you than I originally thought."

Harry caught the slight sexual undertone to Snape's comments and blushed. Then he wondered if Snape had meant it that way and blushed even harder. Snape's amused smile told him that he had meant it exactly the way Harry had taken it.

Trying valiantly to move the conversation along, Harry said, "Wasn't that about the time that Sirius got into our dormitory?"

Snape smiled, recognizing Harry's ploy. "Yes, it was. Minerva was most unhappy with Mr. Longbottom for losing the list of passwords."

"Well if that stupid painting hadn't kept changing it every ten seconds, he wouldn't have needed the list!" Harry defended Neville. "Poor Neville. I think that was also the time that Ron and Hermione weren't speaking because of Scabbers."

"Your friends were fighting over a rat?"

"Scabbers disappeared. Ron thought that Hermione's cat had eaten him. Turns out he was just hiding. That's who Sirius was actually after when he broke into the dormitory, not me. And there was all that drama with Hagrid, too."

"Hagrid? Drama?"

"Yeah, his hippogriff, Buckbeak. You know Buckbeak? Malfoy had gotten him into trouble, by acting like a prat. What a shock, right? He'd been sentenced to death. Hermione had helped Hagrid to appeal the case, but he lost, so they scheduled Buckbeak's execution."

"But he was not executed," Snape pointed out. He'd been aware that the hippogriff had been kept at Grimmauld Place for a time.

"No, he wasn't. That's a story that I don't think we want to get into tonight." Buckbeak's rescue was tied in with Sirius' escape: he couldn't tell one story without the other. And Sirius' escape was guaranteed to bring up bad feelings. He was just too tired tonight to get into any of that now.

"I sense we are reaching a sensitive area," Snape said.

"We are. Are you going to be able to discuss the events surrounding Sirius' escape without losing it?"

"I have been a double agent for more years than I care to remember, Mr. Potter. I will have no trouble controlling my emotions."

Harry could only hope that was true. "Are you going to the match tomorrow?" Changing the subject also seemed like a good idea.

"There is a Quidditch match tomorrow?" Snape feigned ignorance.

"You know there is," Harry said with a smile. "Gryffindor verus Ravenclaw. You coming?"

Snape sighed wearily. "While the Headmistress doesn't require faculty attendance, she does frown ferociously if one dares to miss a match. So, yes, I suspect I will be there."

"I'll look for you," Harry promised.

"Do not make yourself too obvious, Mr. Potter," Snape warned.

"I have admired you for more months than I can remember, Mr. Snape," Harry said, echoing Snape's imperious tone from moments earlier. "I will have no trouble controlling my eyeballs."


	18. Chapter 18

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Eighteen

Harry and Snape sat staring at each other from chairs in Snape's sitting room. Snape had moved them here, thinking that the more intimate setting would help in the discussion to come. The tension radiating from Harry's thin frame reached across the space between them and prodded at Snape, ratcheting his own stress level up another notch or two. What they had to discuss was not going to be easy to get through. Snape had been angry a lot in his life, but that night – the night Sirius Black had been set free – Snape couldn't remember ever being angrier than he'd been that night. But if they were going to do this thing, try to create something between them, they were going to have to get through this.

"So," Snape said. "Where shall we start?"

Harry had thought about this. He'd examined his memories of that time period and thought it was best that they eased their way into this. He'd actually visited the Headmistress last evening and obtained permission to use the pensieve Dumbledore had left to her. He wanted to get the wording right. "Trelawney," he said.

Severus' face showed his surprise at this. "Trelawney?"

"Yeah, she made a prophecy . . ."

Severus interrupted with a snort. "She makes a prophecy every day," he dismissed. "Didn't she predict your death on a daily basis?"

"She did," Harry confirmed. "But this was real. And you know that she's given real prophecy before. You were there."

Snape nodded in acknowledgment of this fact. "But what does Trelawney have to do with the rest of this?"

"'_The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight . . . the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight . . . before midnight . . . the servant . . . will set out . . . to rejoin . . . his master . . ._'" Harry quoted. He'd never have been able to do that without reviewing his memory of Trelawney's spooky behavior that day. "That's what she said."

"Say it again," Snape ordered intensely.

After Harry had, Snape sat back to consider it. "Interesting. So you had some warning of the events to come."

"Not that it helped. I didn't have any idea _how_ the servant was going to help Voldemort come back, or even _who_ the servant was."

"But you likely suspected me."

"I might have, if I'd had time to think about it. See, Buckbeak had been sentenced to death. His appeal was denied that day, and before I could even tell Ron and Hermione what Trelawney had said, we were going down to Hagrid's, to support him through Buckbeak's death. Hagrid told us to go, but before we did, Scabbers turned up. Crookshanks hadn't eaten him after all. Hagrid chased us out, and while we were leaving, Scabbers started going mad, trying to bite Ron to get away. And then we heard the axe – they'd killed Buckbeak."

"What?" Snape said, confused. The hippogriff had _not _been killed – he'd seen it himself at Grimmauld Place. Perhaps they'd substituted another hippogriff, one that resembled Buckbeak enough to fool the Ministry officials sent there to kill him? Not that Snape could imagine Hagrid sacrificing _any_ creature in that way.

"Time turner," Harry said, and Snape began to understand so much about what had happened that night. But he wanted to hear – he wanted to hear _all _the details.

"Explain," he ordered curtly.

Harry heaved a large sigh and launched into the story.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted to know everything. Even though she was a witch, she couldn't be in two places at once. Until some of her teachers thought it was a good idea to give her the ability to do exactly that. Didn't you know?" Harry asked.

"Of course I knew. It would have been impossible for a student to be enrolled in twice the normal number of courses without her teachers taking notice. You won't be surprised to learn that I voiced my objections to the Headmaster and was soundly ignored. He said, and I quote, 'A thirst for knowledge this great should not be quenched, Severus.'"

Harry chuckled at Snape's very creditable impersonation of Dumbledore. Snape made a rolling motion at Harry, ordering him to get on with his story.

"Well, Buckbeak had been killed, and we were heading back up to school. Ron had just found Scabbers, but he was acting really strange, squirming to get away and trying to bite Ron. Ron dropped him, and he ran off. Ron ran after him and grabbed him, but then this giant black dog appeared. It grabbed Ron and pulled him into the roots of the Whomping Willow. After Hermione and I got mangled a bit by the stupid tree, we went in after him."

"How did you still the tree?"

Harry's face colored. He'd like to be able to tell Snape that they figured out how to stop the tree's thrashing movements, but that would be a lie. "Hermione's cat," he muttered.

"Excuse me," Snape said. "Did you say Hermione's cat?"

"Yeah, Crookshanks," Harry said, pushing past the embarrassment of being out-planned by a cat. "I'd seen him with Sirius – with the black dog. I thought they were in cahoots. Anyway, Hermione and I followed the tunnel under the tree and up into the Shrieking Shack. When we found Ron, he was with Sirius. He disarmed us before we even knew what was going on."

Harry paused while he thought about how he'd felt that night. "I wanted to kill him," he confessed. "Ron and Hermione were holding me back. I didn't have a wand, but I would have been perfectly willing to try to kill him with my bare hands. I broke free and jumped on him. I was out of my mind. He got his hand around my throat and started choking me. Hermione and Ron jumped in. Somehow our wands got dropped, and I grabbed mine. I had it pointed at him, and I wanted to kill him so badly. Then Hermione's stupid cat jumped on his chest. I was going to kill him anyway, but I couldn't. I just couldn't make myself do it. And then Remus showed up.

"He disarmed me. Then he hugged Sirius. We were all shocked, sure that Remus was working with Sirius Black. Hermione was beside herself. She'd been keeping Remus' secret for months, but she wasn't keeping it any longer. She told us what he was. He didn't deny it, said that Dumbledore knew, that all of the staff knew. He gave us back our wands, to convince us to listen to what they had to say. He said he'd seen the map and saw Pettigrew was with us."

Harry looked up at Severus, trying to gauge the man's mood. Severus was as impassive as the faces on Mt. Rushmore. "Remus began to tell us about how they'd all become secret animagi in school. If I'm not mistaken, this is where you came in." Looking back, Harry thought, they really should have suspected when the door opened seemingly on its own that someone had to have found Harry's cloak. They'd been too caught up in circumstances to think logically, he supposed. When Snape appeared from under the cloak some time later, it had been a shock to all of them.

"I thought you were going to kill him," Harry whispered.

"I wanted to," Snape confessed freely. "If he'd moved even one muscle, I would have done so happily. I thought my self-restraint quite remarkable when I planned to bring him to the dementors. And then you," he said this word with all of the contempt that he used to muster for Harry, "interfered."

"I only wanted to hear him out. What could it have hurt to listen to what he had to say?"

"It ended up hurting _me_ quite a lot," Snape noted.

"Do you want me to say I'm sorry about that?" Harry asked quietly.

"You and your little friends knocked me unconscious!"

"You were being unreasonable!" Harry flared. "You wouldn't listen to anything anyone said. You were so focused on getting revenge on Sirius that you wouldn't even consider that he might be innocent. You were going to just get him kissed without giving him a chance to explain!"

"You heard him!" Snape snarled. "He set his dear friend Lupin up to murder me, and he had no remorse for that at all! Even then, with the added years and the supposedly gained maturity, he still thought I deserved to be murdered simply because we hadn't gotten along as children. This is the kind of man you admire?"

Harry inhaled a large breath. He'd known this was going to be difficult, and they weren't anywhere near the end. "Should we just stop here?" he asked. "We seem to be heading down this road a little earlier than I'd anticipated."

Snape sat for a moment, trying to get his own emotions under control. "No. I would like to know what happened after you knocked me out."

"All right." Harry wasn't sure how much longer they could continue. Snape seemed on the edge of erupting already. "Sirius told us how he'd identified Pettigrew in the picture of the Weasleys in the _Prophet_. He told us how Pettigrew had cut his own finger off to make it appear that he'd been killed by Sirius, along with all those Muggles. He told us how he'd convinced mum and dad to make Pettigrew their secret-keeper, because no one would suspect. And then they forced him to transform."

"Sirius explained how he'd gotten out of Azkaban and that he escaped because he was worried about me. I . . . I believed him. Remus and Sirius were going to kill Pettigrew. He begged each of us to let him live. He finally confessed that he'd been passing information to Voldemort for a year. I had wanted so badly to kill the person responsible for my parents' deaths, but when it came right down to it, I couldn't let them do it. I convinced Remus and Sirius to take Pettigrew back up to the castle and hand him over to the dementors. I've regretted that decision many times since that night."

Harry had been avoiding looking at Snape, but he chanced a quick peek. The man looked as though he'd swallowed a lemon. He was keeping a check on his temper, but it was obviously costing him a lot.

"We shackled Sirius and Ron to Pettigrew, er – levitated you, and we all made our way out of the Whomping Willow. When we were making our way back, Sirius asked me to live with him. For a brief time, I actually thought I was going to get away from the Dursleys. And then the moon came out from behind a cloud." Harry shivered at the memory of what came next.

"And Lupin hadn't taken his potion," Snape sneered.

"No, he hadn't," Harry agreed with a sigh. "In the confusion, Pettigrew transformed back into a rat and got away. Sirius ran after Remus, Hermione and I ran after Sirius . . ."

"Leaving your injured friend and unconscious professor unprotected and defenseless."

"Ron wasn't defenseless!" Harry protected. "He had his wand."

"Hmmph," Severus said, showing what he thought of that.

"Anyway, we ran to the lake, and that's when the dementors showed up. We tried to conjure our patronuses, but we couldn't. Hermione collapsed. The dementors closed in. I saw . . . I saw their faces, if that's what you call them. Have you ever . . .?"

"No," Snape said, barely concealing the horror he felt that a thirteen-year old boy had seen beneath a dementor's hood.

"It was awful. One of the worst things I've ever seen." And that was saying something. "I was trying to protect Sirius, so they went for me first." Harry felt cold to the very marrow of his bones. "I could hear mum screaming. I could feel its breath on my face." Harry shuddered. "And then suddenly there was this silvery light. The dementors began to leave."

"Someone had cast a patronus," Snape guessed.

"Yes. I saw someone across the lake, but I couldn't see them well enough to know who they were. And then I passed out. And I woke up, of course, to you and the Minister talking. I expect you know more about what happened in between than I do."

Snape nodded once. "I came to consciousness on the ground, alone but for Mr. Weasley, who was stunned. I could see a concentration of dementors near the lake, and I guessed that you and Ms. Granger were likely the source. I put Mr. Weasley on a stretcher, and went in search of you. I found the two of you and Black on the shore. The dementors had already begun to retreat. I did not know why. Though you were all unconscious, I bound and gagged Black, conjured stretchers, and escorted all of you up to the infirmary. The Minister was informed that Black had been captured, and he came immediately to Hogwarts."

Harry knew better than to mention that he'd overheard the conversation between Snape and the Minister. He took up the story once again. "Madam Pomfrey told me that Sirius was going to get kissed. You and Fudge came in. I tried to tell the Minister Sirius was innocent, but he wouldn't listen. You didn't help," Harry couldn't stop himself from pointing out. "Dumbledore came in. We tried to explain to him, but he seemed to already know the truth. He told us that we didn't have time to try to prove Sirius' innocence. He said we needed more time. Hermione got it right away. He told us where Sirius was, warned us not to be seen, and he left."

"The Time Turner," Snape said, his voice low and cold.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "I didn't know until that moment that Hermione had it. She'd never told us how she was keeping up with a seemingly impossible class load. She took us back three hours."

"I'm not sure I want to hear any more of this," Snape said. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was not looking at Harry.

But Harry was determined. They were going to get this all out there once and for all. There would be no more secrets between them. "We set Buckbeak free. The plan was to wait until Sirius had been taken to the tower, then fly Buckbeak up there, and get Sirius out. We watched everyone go into the Whomping Willow. We talked about when the dementors had come earlier. I told Hermione that I thought my dad had conjured the patronus. I know, stupid right?" he asked, though Snape had said nothing and appeared to not even be listening.

"We watched Pettigrew escape again, we watched Remus transform again. I went out by the lake, because I needed to see if it really was my dad. But no one came. I waited and waited, and I knew that someone should have been there, but no one came. I could see the three of us on the shore, and the dementors were getting closer and closer. Finally, I knew. I knew that it was me. So I cast a patronus and chased the dementors away again. We waited until it was time, then we flew Buckbeak up, got Sirius out, and he took off on Buckbeak."

Harry remembered acutely the disappointment he'd felt when he finally realized that Sirius going on the run meant that his dream of moving in with his godfather had also flown away on the back of a hippogriff.

Severus was quiet for a long time. Harry was reluctant to say anything, afraid of setting the other man off, wondering if he was too worried about Severus' reaction. After all, much time had passed since that event, and many more horrible things had occurred in the interim. When he thought about it, it really was ridiculous to think that anyone could have held onto the anger that that night had engendered. Even Severus, who was a champion grudge-holder, had to have let at least some of it go. Right?

Wrong. "So let me get this straight. Albus Dumbledore gave a highly-regulated, incredibly rare magical object to a thirteen-year old witch, who then used that device to attend twice the number of classes that any reasonable person would attempt. She then used that same magical object to free an escaped convict, a man who had been accused of the murder of twelve people. Is that what you're telling me?"

Severus was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, his body tight with the remembered anger and tension from that night – the night he'd discovered that the man he hated above all others in this world had escaped justice once again. The anger was back, just as hot and strong as it had been that night all those years ago.

Harry heard it, and he reacted to it just as he would have all those years ago. "He was innocent," he said through clenched teeth.

"_If _that were true," and he said this in such a way that he still doubted it, even after all the truth that had been revealed since that night, "then he should have made the authorities aware of that and let justice take its course."

There were so many things wrong with that statement that Harry wasn't sure where to start. "But Pettigrew escaped. There was no guarantee that the Ministry was going to listen to anything anyone said about what happened that night. And what makes you think the Ministry would have lifted a finger to help him? Their stellar track record when it came to admitting that they'd been mistaken about something? He'd been imprisoned wrongfully for _twelve years_! He deserved to be free!"

"He _deserved_ to be held accountable for the evil he'd done," Snape countered.

"You're being unreasonable," Harry said. "You're letting your history with Sirius color your thinking."

"This coming from Mr. Sound and Reasonable Judgment," Snape said meanly.

Harry could sense that this wasn't going anywhere good, and he stood up. "I think we should call it a night."

"Running when the going gets tough, Potter?" Snape sneered.

"No," Harry said, nearly exhausting his supply of patience and forbearance. "I just don't see any point in continuing this discussion with you right now."

Somewhere deep inside, Snape knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't seem to stop it. "You don't understand – "

"I understand enough," Harry interrupted. "I understand that my father and his friends were horrible to you when you were in school. I _understand_ what that torment is like – "

Oh, that was just too much, and Snape was not going to stand for it. That Potter of all people could stand there and pretend to understand what he'd gone through was just too much. "You understand nothing! You – you who grew up sheltered and pampered." Snape knew that wasn't true, and he really didn't know why he'd said it, but his mouth seemed to be operating on a different frequency than his brain. "What can you possibly know about being ostracized and singled out for humiliation?"

"_You're _the one who doesn't understand! I know what it's like, all right?"

"Tell me, Potter! Tell me about your horrific life experiences that allow you to commiserate with me. Tell me how you're _just like me_!"

"I'm not just like you," Harry said, his voice betraying his anger and hurt. "I wouldn't be so mean to someone who only ever wanted to get close to me. I'm gonna go now. You enjoy the rest of your evening."

Harry left the room, closing the door softly behind him.


	19. Chapter 19

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Nineteen

Harry was unusually quiet in Potions that Friday afternoon, and he did not attend his regular Friday night potions session at all. Severus sat in his classroom for a long time after the appointed time of their meeting came and went. He could let this go, wait until Potter calmed down and came back to him. But what if that never happened? What if Potter had finally come to his senses, realized that Severus was much too old for him, much too contrary, much too not worth it? Severus could just sit here and let things work themselves out as they would. Or he could fight for the one good thing that had ever come his way.

He stood up quickly. "Kreacher!" he barked.

Moments later, the wizened old elf appeared before him, immediately bowing low enough that his over-large ears scraped the ground. "You called, Master Snape?" he said as soon as he was upright again.

"Yes. Is your master in his room this evening?"

"Yes, Master Harry is in his room. Master Harry has been in his room almost constantly lately."

"Will you take me there?" Snape asked.

Kreacher extended a hand toward him, and Snape didn't hesitate before taking it.

**##########**

Harry nearly fell off his bed he was so startled at the appearance of his house-elf and his potions master in his room. As it was, the book and the parchments he'd been reviewing tumbled to the floor in a disorganized mess.

"Kreacher!" he said, placing a hand to his chest to still his rapidly beating heart. "What are you doing?"

Kreacher bowed low. "Master Snape requested that I bring him here. Master Harry has ordered me to obey Master Snape in all things. Kreacher was only doing his job."

Harry blushed slightly at Kreacher's admission. He snuck a quick look at Snape, but couldn't maintain eye contact. He was still so angry and hurt, and he wasn't sure he was ready to talk to the other man yet. But Kreacher was right: he had told the elf to obey Severus as he would Harry. He could hardly blame him for following directions. "Thank you, Kreacher. You may leave now."

With another low bow, the elf disapparated.

Harry started to pick up the things he'd dropped, then gave it up. "What are you doing here, Professor?"

"I apologize if I startled you, Mr. Potter, by appearing so suddenly," Snape said stiffly. "I thought it better than to walk through the common room and knock on your door."

"It's all right. But you haven't told me why you're here."

"I wanted to speak with you. I thought that we needed to talk after our . . . disagreement the other evening. When you did not come to your potions session, I began to wonder if I had driven you away for good."

"I was angry," Harry confessed. "I still am. I'm not sure that I want to have this discussion . . ."

"In my life," Severus interrupted, "very few good things have come my way. On the few occasions that they did, I chased them away or let them go without a struggle. I found that this . . . whatever this is that we have, I was not willing to let it go without at least attempting to salvage it, to see if I could repair the damage that I have done."

It was obvious to Harry that Severus was very sorry about the things that he'd said when they'd last met, and that he had been beating himself up about it since. While the man was explaining himself, Harry had approached him until he stood before the taller man. Severus appeared not to have noticed Harry's approach until Harry reached up to rub soothingly at his upper arm. Somehow, all of Harry's anger had evaporated in the face of the man's obvious upset.

"Severus," he said softly, then waited until the man was looking down at him before continuing. Once the black eyes were focused on him, he went on. "It's all right. I was angry, but I was just waiting until I got over it to come to see you. And I was waiting for you to cool off, too. I didn't want to argue again. But I was _going _to come. I wasn't done with us, not by a long shot. You won't get rid of me that easily."

Severus sagged with relief. "That is good. That is good to hear." He straightened back up. "I hope that you will accept my apology, Harry. It is ridiculous of me to hold onto a grudge against a dead man for this long – I know that. I tell myself that I should let it go, I _want_ to let it go, I _intend_ to let it go, but then – something happens, and I find myself right back in that time. But that is not your problem. It is mine. And I am sorry that I let my grievances upset you and chase you away."

"It's okay," Harry assured him. "We're going to argue, Professor. That's just a fact we have to accept. I expect every couple argues, and given who we are, we're sort of doomed to have more than our fair share, I think. But we have to figure out a way to get past them without hexing each other or saying something we can't take back."

"You . . . you think of us as a . . . couple?" Snape asked.

Harry smiled up at him. "I do. I know it's a little unorthodox now, but some day, we're going to be together as we want. I dream about it."

Snape reached up and cupped Harry's jaw with a large hand. Harry leaned into the touch, and Snape couldn't help himself: he leaned in for a kiss. He kept it chaste, because Harry's bed was right behind them, and it would take only one step forward and they'd be up against it. From there, he'd only need to push Harry backward, follow him down, and the two of them would be in an entirely inappropriate but extremely pleasant position.

When he pulled away, Harry looked up at him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright. "Are we okay now?"

"Surprisingly enough," Snape said, "it appears that we are." He placed a kiss on the end of Potter's nose. "Will I see you on Tuesday night?"

"You will," Harry promised. "We've gotten through the hardest part. Well, the hardest part as far as you and I wanting to hex each other senseless. The rest should be much calmer."

"Mmm," Snape agreed. There were still difficult things that needed to be discussed, but Harry was right: none of the remaining memories should cause this amount of discord between them. "I should be going. I apologize again for coming unannounced and uninvited. Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Potter."

"Good night, Severus," Harry dared.

"Good night, Harry," Snape countered before calling for Kreacher and being escorted back to his own room.

**##########**

Harry settled himself in front of Snape's desk. He was prepared to pretend that last week had never happened, and he hoped that Snape was as well. He was very relieved when Snape said, "So. Fourth year. A busy one."

Harry smiled in acknowledgment of Snape's willingness to move on. "Yeah. It was. Where do you want to start?"

"Well, it technically was not part of the school year, but you were at the World Cup when all hell broke loose."

"Yeah," Harry said, shivering at the memory. "Were you?"

"Are you asking if I was part of the group of Death Eaters?"

"Yes."

"I was not. I didn't return to those types of activities until after the Dark Lord returned to his body."

"You still call him 'the Dark Lord?'"

"Old habits."

"Was Lucius Malfoy there?"

"He was," Snape confirmed. "At that time, Lucius was doing everything he could to step into the vacuum created by the Dark – by _Voldemort's_ absence. He had begun to fancy himself as the new Dark Lord. He had the money, and the power, and the political connections. Had the _actual_ Dark Lord not come back, Lucius was poised to pick up the mantle and wear it proudly."

Harry sighed. "Lucius Malfoy was a prick, but he was nowhere near as scary as Voldemort."

Snape smiled his agreement with that statement.

"So – fourth year. Started out tame enough, I guess. Unless you were Draco Malfoy."

"You speak of the ferret incident."

"Yeah," Harry said, smiling fondly in remembrance. "That was pretty funny. I assume you heard all about it? Moody . . . well, Crouch. You know what I mean. He said he was going to talk with you. Seemed to be looking forward to it, actually."

"Yes. Both Alastor Moody and Barty Crouch distrusted me. They did have that in common. And he did come to me, Draco in tow, spitting some wild story about how Draco had tried to hex you when your back was turned. Seems ironic in retrospect that the man was so upset by the perceived lack of fairness in the boy's actions. I, of course, maintained that he hadn't seen what he thought he'd seen. Of course Draco Malfoy wouldn't curse someone in the back. And he certainly wouldn't _miss_ had he done so!"

"But he did," Harry protested.

"Oh, I have no doubt that he did. But I couldn't just accept that, could I? Not back then."

"No, I guess not. But you didn't get to see him as a ferret! It seemed so appropriate that he got turned into such a small, weasley little animal. I thought it reflected the inner Malfoy."

"You may well be right about that. Speaking of Moody," he said, looking down at his journal, "I have written here that he began teaching you about unforgivable curses in your very first lesson with him."

"Yeah," Harry said, thinking back to that first class with the new DADA teacher. "That was . . . I'd never really thought about _how_ my parents died. Oh, I'd thought about _the fact_ that they had died often enough, the circumstances leading up to their deaths, who betrayed them, that sort of thing. But I'd never allowed myself to imagine the mechanics of the actual moment. And Moody showed it to us in living color. Green, of course. It was horrible."

"That must have been very difficult for you, sitting there in a roomful of your peers."

"It was," Harry admitted. "But it was harder on Neville. He'd demonstrated the cruciatus curse right before that. Of course you know what happened to Neville's parents. I can only imagine how he must have been imaging what his parents went through when Bellatrix cursed them for so long they lost their minds. I'm glad she's dead," Harry said, his voice tight and firm. "How anyone could enjoy inflicting pain as much as she did still just amazes me."

"She was a special brand of evil," Snape agreed. "And she got her due. Molly Weasley, of all people!"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, Mrs. Weasley was awesome!"

"Moody also used imperius on you."

"Well, he _tried_. It didn't work. Have you ever had that cast on you?"

Snape nodded. "A couple of times. Tell me what it felt like to throw it off."

Harry didn't comment on the fact that he could throw the imperius off, but Snape apparently couldn't. They were back to being friends – he didn't want to mess that up by making an ill-conceived comment. "It was the weirdest thing. You know that feeling you get, like everything is good, and going along with what the voice tells you is just the most natural thing in the world? Well, I was going to, and then all of a sudden, there was this other voice in my head, questioning what the first voice was saying. The command was strong, but the longer it went on, the stronger the other voice got until it just . . . overpowered the command. I have no idea why I was able to fight it off. No one else in the room could."

"Dumbledore was quite beside himself with pride when Moody told him. We heard about it in the staff room for days after."

"I'm surprised Moody talked about it. Actually, he seemed kind of pleased himself, at the time. Which doesn't make sense when you know what he was. I would have thought that that would have been bad news in their overall plan to capture me and use me the way they planned to."

"Perhaps he was just playing his role."

"Mmm," Harry agreed. "Probably."

"So let's talk next about the Goblet of Fire. Tell me, once and for all, did you put your name in the cup?"

Harry looked up at Snape, unable to believe the man even had to ask that question. After all of Harry's denials, and all that he had suffered after that stupid giant cup had spit out his name, he _still_ thought Harry had done it himself? "No," he said firmly. When Snape didn't respond, Harry said, "Do you believe me _this_ time?"

"I do," Snape said. "Really, I did back then, because Moody was right – it would take a powerful wizard to get past the enchantments on that cup. And we both know what I thought of your abilities back then. But some small part of me remained of the belief that you had found some way to get around the enchantments, that your eternal quest for adoration and glory drove you to new heights of cleverness that you never displayed in the classroom . . ."

"Could we move on?" Harry demanded. Talking about Snape's opinion of Harry all those years ago was not conducive to getting along now. "You certainly made your feelings plain at the time. I don't think we need to relive them now."

"You are right, of course," Snape conceded with an apologetic tilt of his head. "But your friend, Mr. Weasley, he also believed that you had entered yourself into the competition, did he not?"

"He did. Ron can be . . . sensitive about things. He's the sixth child of seven, born to a family that had very little money to spare. I think he always kind of resented the fact that I was famous. Little did he know that I would have traded places with him in a heartbeat. But he eventually got over it. Ron's a lot of things, some of them good, some of them bad, but he's incredibly loyal, if you give him the chance to work things out at his own pace."

"I know that it weighed on you, though," Snape said. "I could see it."

"You were watching me that closely, were you?"

"Always."

Harry smiled in acknowledgment of this admission. "Hey, isn't that about the time that you insulted Hermione about her teeth?"

Snape stared at him for a moment before saying, "I don't know what you mean." His attempt at innocence fell far short.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right. Of course you don't. Bet you remember the detention you gave to Ron and me. Pickling rat spleens, wasn't it?"

"Brains," Snape corrected, then blushed when he realized he'd been caught. Harry smiled at his chagrin.

"You needed a little bringing down to earth, I figured. The articles in the _Prophet_ were swelling your head."

"No, they weren't," Harry argued. "I hate that Skeeter woman." Harry fidgeted in his chair, and Snape could tell that there was something the boy was holding back from him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"There's something you're not telling me. You are transparent, Mr. Potter. There is something that you are withholding. You want to tell me, but you are . . . afraid?" Snape guessed. "No, not afraid," he continued when Harry's defiant expression told him that he was wrong. "Embarrassed?" he guessed again. Harry looked away, and his cheeks blushed a light pink. "Ah, that is it. You are embarrassed. Something about that Skeeter woman, and you are embarrassed. What is it?"

Harry huffed, "It's not important."

"I thought we were sharing here, Mr. Potter. Are you withholding something from me?" Snape teased.

Harry knew that he could stop Snape's line of questioning immediately by invoking their agreement never to push when one didn't want to talk about something, but this wasn't that important, so he pushed on. "All the champions had to have their wands weighed, yeah? Skeeter was there. She wanted to talk to me. Privately. She took me into this little broom cupboard. We were squished in there, and she started to interview me." Harry paused. "She had this quill that wrote the story for her, so her hands were free. She . . . um, she groped me."

Snape stared at him, astonished. When he'd begun teasing Potter, he'd never expected to hear a confession that he'd been sexually molested when he was a boy. "She _what?"_

Harry's cheeks had reddened to the shade of an apple. "She grabbed me. Through my trousers," he hastily added. "Down there."

"And what did you do?"

"I got hard," Harry admitted. At Snape's look of disbelief, Harry said, "I was fourteen! A stiff wind made me hard!"

"No, I meant, did you tell someone?"

"Who was gonna believe me?"

"Dumbledore would have believed you. He would have liked nothing better than to have a reason to ban that woman from the castle."

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't that big a deal."

"Not that big a . . . Harry, she molested you! She was an adult and she touched you in places she had no right to!"

"Yeah, that cupboard was kind of nasty."

"You joke about this?" Snape asked in disbelief.

Harry shrugged again. Honestly, when he compared that incident with other things that had happened to him in his life, it really wasn't that big a deal. "Can we move on? Maybe talk about the first task?"

Snape studied the young man sitting across from him for a moment before acceding to his request. It wasn't as though there was anything he could do about it now, anyway. Except maybe hex Skeeter the next time he saw her.

"Tell me what you were thinking when you came out of the tent and saw the dragon," Severus requested.

"Well, I knew we'd be facing dragons already, of course."

"You did? I thought the tasks were supposed to be secret?"

"They were. But they didn't take into account Hagrid's fascination with dragons. He knew they were there, and he couldn't help himself – he _had_ to show me. Of course, he was smitten with Madame Maxime, so he had to show _her_ as well. And I saw Karkaroff sneaking around out there, so he knew as well. I eventually told Cedric, because it didn't seem fair that everyone else knew and he didn't. But knowing what was coming and actually facing it were two very different things. It was terrifying."

"You were very impressive."

Harry smiled shyly with pleasure at the compliment. "I can't even accept credit for that. Moody suggested that I play to my strengths."

"Perhaps," Snape conceded. "But you mastered the _Accio_, and you kept your cool when faced with an aggressive nesting female dragon. That was all you."

"Yeah, I suppose. But once I got on the broom, all of the fear and the worry seemed to just melt away. I felt like I was home, that I could do anything. And it occurred to me if I could just get the dragon to come up off her nest, I'd be able to dart down and snatch the egg quickly enough that she might not be able to thump me with her tail, or fry me, or gobble me up." Harry shrugged. "I got lucky."

How had Severus ever thought this boy was arrogant? "I suppose there was some element of luck involved," he said, "but you displayed courage and skill in the face of danger. Even _I_ admired you."

Harry stared at him, not sure whether the older man was having him on. "You sure managed to hide it well."

Snape shrugged. "I was hardly going to go about the school extolling your virtues, was I?"

"Merlin forbid," Harry joked.

"My telling you now will have to suffice."

"Oh, it does," Harry said sincerely. And it did. To know that Snape had admired him for _something_ back then warmed him in strange places.

"And your trials with the dragon seemed to mend fences with your friend, Mr. Weasley."

"Yeah, he seemed to realize that whoever had put my name in the goblet meant to do me in. Which didn't mean that I hadn't done it myself, of course. Because no one knew there would be dragons, yeah? I _could_ have done it, then been caught in my own dishonesty, right? Not that I did," he said hastily, "but I _could_ have."

"It certainly wouldn't have been the first time that a teenager jumped into something without being aware of all the potential consequences. Or disregarding them completely," Snape agreed.

Harry thought Snape was being very tactful by saying "a teenager" instead of "you." He yawned, then looked down at his watch. "Holy smokes, look how late it is! I'm sorry to keep you so late, Professor. I probably should get going."

"We had much to discuss. I am very glad that you came tonight."

Harry smiled. "Me, too. I'll see you in Potions?"

"You most certainly will."


	20. Chapter 20

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty

"Have you seen your friends lately?" Snape asked on their next Tuesday visit.

"What? No, they're really busy, you know? They've already started living their real lives."

"'Real lives?'" Snape repeated. "Are _you_ not living your real life?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. Not yet. I'm still in school. My real life is still out there waiting for me."

"And what does this 'real life' of yours entail?" Snap asked.

"Well, it entails a place of my own, and a job which I haven't figured out what that is going to be just yet, and, hopefully, a relationship with this man I've recently begun to get to know." Harry ducked his head shyly.

Snape smiled at the boy's coyness. "Well, I must say that that sounds very . . . fulfilling."

"I expect it will be," Harry said. "In fact, it's getting very hard to wait for some of those things."

"But good things come to those who wait, Mr. Potter. At least, that is what they say."

"I believe that to be true," Harry said.

The atmosphere in the room had gotten progressively heavier and laden with meaning as they spoke, and the two stared at each other as though doubting the wisdom of Harry waiting to start his "real life."

Snape finally cleared his throat, which seemed to dissipate the tension. "The egg," he said. "Let us talk about the egg which you won from the dragon."

"Okay," Harry agreed, taking a large, cleansing breath and letting it back out again. "The egg. I tried opening it that night in the common room. It made an awful hideous screeching noise. I was at a loss as to how to open it and hear its message. Until Cedric Diggory told me to take it into the bath."

"The bath?"

"Yeah, the prefect's bath. He gave me the password, and I went in there and when I opened it under water, it sang with the key to the next task. But I didn't figure that out for months afterward. If Cedric hadn't helped me, I would never have figured the egg out, and I would never have made it to the second task."

"He was paying you back for helping him by warning him about the dragons?"

Harry nodded. "Cedric was honorable that way. And if Myrtle hadn't helped me piece together what the song actually meant, I still would have been clueless."

"Myrtle?"

"Moaning Myrtle? The ghost?"

"Ah. Are you in the habit of taking baths with ghosts, Mr. Potter?" Snape teased.

"Well, no, but she kind of invited herself in. Sort of pervy, she is."

"Did it never occur to you that if you simply left the egg alone, your participation in the tournament would have been over?"

"No," Harry said honestly, "that never occurred to me."

"That does not surprise me, because _you_ are honorable that way," Snape observed. "Now, I seem to recall finding an egg quite near to my office very early one morning right around this time. Would you know anything about that?"

"Me?" Harry said innocently. "Did you _see_ me anywhere around at the time?"

"Don't pretend innocence with me," Snape said curtly. "I can see right through it. Just as Moody could see right through that infernal cloak of yours."

"You knew he could see through it?" Harry asked, surprised.

Snape nodded. "Dumbledore told me. I knew that he could see you there on the stairs. I could _smell_ you, Potter, but if I'd had any doubts as to what was going on, Moody gave you away. And the map! Why did you not just scarper off and retrieve the egg later? Why did you stay and risk being caught out at that time of night?"

Harry blushed. "I got caught in the trick step," he said sheepishly. "And I dropped the egg and the map. Before I could get free, Filch was there, and then you – looking back, Professor, can I just say how cute you looked in your nightshirt? – and then Moody was there, and he could see me, but he didn't rat me out."

"Because even the faux Moody hated me enough to side with a mere student," Snape said, ignoring the nightshirt comment.

"But see, I'd seen Barty Crouch's name on the map," Harry explained. "And everyone said he was too sick to attend the tournament, so I wondered what he was doing at Hogwarts, in your office, in the middle of the night. So I was going to check it out when everything just went kaflooey. After you left, Moody asked if he could keep my map for a bit, made it sound like it would be very useful in helping to discover what was going on. I realized afterward, of course, that he wanted it because if I happened to look at it while we were standing there, I would have seen that he wasn't, in fact, Moody."

"Hmm, yes. We all missed clues, didn't we?" Snape noted. "Even the great Albus Dumbledore was fooled." He was quiet for a moment, as he was whenever Dumbledore was mentioned, then seemed to rouse himself. "So in the meantime, while you were trying to figure out the egg, we were subjected to the Yule Ball."

"Yeah," Harry shuddered. "What a disaster! I wanted to ask Cho Chang, but I couldn't work up the nerve. When I finally did, she had already said she'd go with Cedric. I would have just gone stag, but McGonagall said I had to have a date as I had to open the ball."

"You brought one of the Patil girls," Snape remembered.

"Yeah, Parvati. Ron took Padma."

Severus sat behind his desk, a very large smirk on his face at the memory of how awkward Harry had been dancing during the opening of the ball.

"What are you smiling at?" Harry asked, though he thought he knew.

"You. You were so . . . awkward. And cute."

"You thought I was cute?" Harry squawked.

"Well, your dancing was . . . it is hard to come up with an adequate term."

"Hey, aside from one stupid lesson with McGonagall, I'd never had any dancing lessons!" Harry defended himself. "I was kind of letting Parvati lead. Maybe you should blame her. And I didn't see _you_ dancing!"

"I don't engage in such activities in a public setting," Snape said haughtily.

"Yeah, right," Harry said, in clear disbelief.

"You do not believe me?" Snape challenged.

"I think that if you _could _dance, you would have done so at least once that night."

Snape stood suddenly from behind his desk and swooped down on Harry, who instinctively sat back in his chair at the sudden intrusion into his personal space. "What are you doing?"

Snape extended a hand to Harry. "Proving a point."

"What point?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Snape stared down at his own hand, then at Harry, his challenge obvious. Somewhat hesitantly, Harry put his hand into Snape's and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Snape lead him to the only clear space in his office, waved his wand at the wireless on a shelf, and when soft music began to play, Snape tugged Harry closer, positioned the other man's arms, and began to dance him around in the small space.

Harry concentrated very hard on moving his own feet so that he did not step on Snape's. He felt stiff and left-footed in comparison to Snape's surprisingly graceful movements, embarrassed and childish and foolish. And he was getting a little aroused.

With a gentle yank, Snape pulled Harry into his embrace. "Relax," he whispered into Harry's ear. "You're thinking too much. Normally, I would applaud that action, but right now, you need to just let go. Let go, Harry."

And Harry did. He felt himself melt into Snape's arms, letting his arms go around the thin waist and resting his cheek on Snape's chest. Now they weren't so much dancing as they were swaying together, feet barely moving, melding into one single individual. Harry could no longer hear the music – his head was filled with the sound of Snape's heart beating beneath his ear. He thought he could stay here all night.

After many minutes of neither talking, the only sound in the room coming from the wireless, Harry felt and heard Snape sigh. He suspected this meant that Snape was about to pull away from him, and he tightened his arms around the older man, unwilling to let go yet.

Snape raised a hand to stroke the back of Harry's head. He laced his fingers through the dark locks, then used this grip to gently pull Harry's head back so that he could see down into those torpid green eyes. "Tell me about the second task."

_Wha'? _Harry's sleepy brain struggled to comprehend what Snape wanted, why he wanted to talk now when they could just stand here in each other's arms, soaking up this wonderful feeling. "The second task?" he repeated muzzily.

Snape smiled down at him, then began to steer him toward the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. Once there, Snape pulled away from him, and pushed him gently into his seat. "The second task," he repeated.

Harry sighed. Moment of bliss over. "The second task. Right. Well, I'd figured out how to get the clue from the egg, and I'd figured out what it meant, but I hadn't figured out how I was going to stay underwater for an hour. We were still working on it the night before the second task. I was on the verge of panic. We'd been searching through the library for a spell, but there was just nothing. I'd almost decided to give up, to just tell the judges that I couldn't do it, but I went back to the library, because I couldn't imagine just giving up. I stayed there all night. I actually fell asleep there. If Dobby hadn't woken me in the morning, I would have slept right through the competition."

"So you woke the morning of the task with no idea how you were going to accomplish it?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Dobby woke me about ten minutes before we were supposed to start. He told me that they'd taken Ron into the lake. According to the egg's clue, if I didn't rescue him within the allotted hour, he'd die, I guess. I wasn't clear on that part. But I knew I had to try."

"So you stole my gillyweed."

"I did not!" Harry exclaimed. "Like I would have had time! _Dobby _stole your gillyweed. So I raced down to the lake, and I ate the gillyweed. I'm sure you know what happened next."

"You grew gills."

Harry nodded. "And I dove into the lake. Moaning Myrtle helped me to find the right place. None of the other competitors were there when I arrived. I got a rock and hacked at the rope holding Ron until he was free. If I was smart, I would have just grabbed him and gone back to the surface. But no one else was there, and I couldn't just leave Hermione and Cho and the little girl. The merpeople wouldn't let me help them, but then Cedric turned up. He said Fleur and Viktor were coming, too, and he cut Cho loose and swam away. I waited, because I couldn't see anyone else coming. Then Viktor came. He'd transformed himself partly into a shark. He cut Hermione loose, and they left.

"I waited some more, but Fleur never came. So I held the merpeople back with my wand, cut Gabrielle free, and tugged both her and Ron back up to the surface. I lost my gills partway there, and I was quite convinced I was going to drown before I made it back up."

"But you made it," Snape said. "I'm willing to admit now that we were all quite tense waiting for you to return. When Diggory and Krum resurfaced, and you were not behind them, with the time limit expired, we all began to fear the worst."

"That was just me being my usual stupid self. Ron told me immediately after we came up that Dumbledore would not have let anything happen to the hostages. I should have known that, but I just . . ."

"You thought you needed to save everyone," Snape offered.

"I guess so," Harry admitted miserably.

"Don't be ashamed of wanting to help your fellow man, Harry," Snape said softly. "It's part of what makes you who you are."

"Yeah, an idiotic Gryffindor with a hero complex," Harry said with a self-deprecating snort.

"Exactly," Snape agreed with a smile. "But it all turned out well. The judges were so impressed with your attempt to return all of those taken to the surface that they awarded you second place."

"They did. And then it was over for several months, and things could get back to normal."

"Or as normal as they ever do for you."

"True.

"My, look at the time," Snape said, sitting upright suddenly. "We have been longer than I would have guessed."

Harry looked at his own watch. "You're right. I should really be going." He stood up and came over shy all of a sudden. "Thank you for the dance, Professor."

"You are most welcome, Mr. Potter. I shall see you on Friday."

**##########**

"We have reached the third task," Snape said somberly when next they met. "There are parts of your experience in the maze and the events that happened afterward that I am familiar with, but there are many more details which I have never known. If it is not too difficult, I should like to hear about them."

Harry had brought Dora with him tonight, and he stroked her soft back, soothing himself with the action. Talking about Cedric was never easy, even considering intervening events. "It's difficult," Harry admitted, "but I can do it. Wait a sec. Are we just gonna skip over how nasty you were to me after Skeeter published that article about Hermione?"

"Yes," Snape said, coloring slightly. "We are. I see no purpose in going over that now. Do you?"

"No," Harry said, "but you were a right prick, you know that?"

"I know that."

"And don't say that it was all an act."

"I would not."

"But things are different now."

"They most certainly are."

"So, yeah, we don't need to go over that. We've moved on."

"Have we?"

Harry ducked and blushed because despite his recent pique, he really had moved on. "Yes, we have," he said firmly. "So, the third task. How much do you know about the obstacles set up inside in the maze?"

"I had very little to do with the setup of the maze. Other than brewing the quick-growing potion that was used on the hedges. Potions were not needed otherwise in that particular task."

"Well, let's see if I can remember the order. There was a boggart, this really weird golden mist that turned everything upside down when you stepped into it, and a blast-ended skrewt, thanks to Hagrid. Cedric and I actually took the skrewt down together. It was just after that that we split up, and he ran into Krum. Who crucioed him. He'd been confunded, as you know. I stupefied Krum, and we sent up red sparks so that someone would come for him. After we split up again, I ran into a sphinx, who made me solve a riddle. And then I saw the cup. Cedric saw it, too. He was closer. We both started running toward the cup, and then this acromantula appeared. Cedric fell and dropped his wand. The spider was going to eat him, so I tried to stupefy it, but it was just _so big_, my spell just bounced off. But it did piss the spider off, and it came after me. It picked me up, and I tried to kick it, but I got pierced in the leg by one of its pincers. I threw a spell at it, and it dropped me about fifteen feet. Then Cedric and I got it together. Again.

"The cup was right there. I told Cedric to take it. He deserved it. He'd beaten me fair and square. And then he went all over Hufflepuff. I told him to take it. He told me he wouldn't, that I had saved him twice and that _I _deserved it. We argued. _I'd_ had help all along the way, I told him. He said no, and he started walking away." Harry had to stop, as a great ball of emotion was suddenly choking him. "If I'd just let him go . . ." A tear slid down his right cheek. Harry chose to let it, so as not to draw any more attention to it than necessary. "But I told him we should both take it. We'd helped each other, we'd gotten there at the same time, and we should take it together. So we did."

"And the cup was a portkey," Snape said when Harry appeared unable to go on.

Harry nodded. Then swallowed. Hard. "You know what happened next, I expect."

"If you do not wish to speak of it, I understand," Snape said softly.

"Thank you," Harry said, and he sat silently for a time, making Snape believe that he intended to take him up on the offer. "But I've never really talked it all the way through before. Not with anyone. It was too hard. If you can be patient, I can try."

"Before we begin, might I suggest that we adjourn to my private quarters. It will be more comfortable."

Numbly, Harry stood up, prepared to follow the older man anywhere.

Snape surprised Harry by seating himself on the sofa with Harry, and once they were settled, he said, "From the beginning?"

Harry nodded. "From the beginning. We landed in a graveyard. We saw someone coming. It looked like he was carrying a baby. Suddenly . . . suddenly my scar began to hurt. I dropped my wand and fell to the ground. Someone said, 'kill the spare.' And they did. They just . . . killed him." Harry swiped at the tears that spilled from his eyes. Snape removed a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Harry.

"I think I threw up. My scar hurt so much. I was pulled to my feet before I could even really register what had happened, and I realized who the man was. He tied me to the headstone. Then he brought out a huge cauldron. The baby thing was on the ground, wrapped in robes. Wormtail picked it up, and I saw what it was." Harry shuddered, and drew in a watery breath. "It was horrible. It looked like a child, but the most hideous child you could ever imagine. It was . . . raw and scaly . . . and almost helpless. Wormtail picked it up and put it in the cauldron. I prayed _so hard_ that it would drown.

"Then Wormtail started the ritual. _'Blood of the father, unknowingly given_.' Wormtail pulled a bone out of the grave of Tom Riddle. I was tied to _his _headstone. '_Flesh of the servant, willingly given._' Then he cut off his own hand. I couldn't watch. But I couldn't help but hear the splash as it fell into the cauldron, and Wormtail's screams. Then he was right in front of me. '_Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken.'_ There was nothing I could do."

Harry stopped, because he didn't believe his last statement. There had to have been _something_ he could have done. He could have fought harder. He could have tried to use wandless magic. He could have screamed for help – maybe someone would have heard them. But he did nothing. He hung there, and he let Wormtail cut him and take his blood to resurrect Voldemort. And he'd done nothing when Wormtail had killed Cedric. He'd been on his knees, and he'd done nothing.

"Harry," Snape said, reaching out to take one of Harry's hands into his own. "There was nothing you could do," he repeated Harry's own words. "You were tied to a stone. You were likely in shock after the portkey and the killing of your friend before your very eyes. None of this was your fault."

"But I should have _tried_," Harry said, turning on him, his eyes red and wet. "I should have tried to do _something_. Instead, I just let it all happen. I just let him . . ."

Snape slid closer and put an arm around the sobbing boy. He held Harry to his chest while Harry poured out his emotion. Snape leaned back, pulling Harry with him, making himself comfortable, prepared to wait out this grief-letting which should have happened years prior to now. When Harry finally quieted and tried to pull away, Snape pressed his head to his shoulder and said, "Tell me what happened next."

He felt Harry melt into his comforting embrace. Then he picked up the tale again.

"Wormtail put my blood into the cauldron. There was steam and sparks and bright light, and from the middle of it all, a figure emerged. Voldemort had been reborn. The first thing he did was use Wormtail's dark mark to call his Death Eaters. You know that, though, huh?"

"I most certainly do," Snape confirmed, his voice low, his hand carding through Harry's hair. "I'd felt it strengthening over the previous several months, but that night . . . with you and Diggory having not yet returned from the maze, I knew that the burning of the dark mark could signal nothing but His full return."

Harry stretched his neck up so that he could see Snape without taking his head from the man's firm shoulder. "You didn't come."

"No. I informed Dumbledore immediately that the mark had flared, and we discussed how best to respond. We were both concerned about the fact that you and Diggory seemed to be missing from the maze. The Headmaster had cast a spell to detect both your locations, a spell which would have informed him if either of you were in danger, but the spell got no result at all. Neither of us wanted to believe it, but it seemed certain you and Diggory were no longer on the school premises. He, quite frankly, was getting a bit hysterical in his worry about you. It felt . . . wrong to leave him in that condition. And quite frankly, I would have preferred not to return at all. Had the Headmaster turned to me and said, 'Severus, I want you to stay. I will not ask you to return to the madman,' I would have likely fallen to my knees in thanks. As it was, we decided to delay a decision, at least until we could locate you. I argued that if I were to apparate to his side, I would likely find you, but the Headmaster simply refused to believe that Voldemort had been able to get his hands on you while you were safe on school grounds. I left the decision to him, as I was wont to do. He said wait, so I waited. And we worried, about you and Diggory."

"The Death Eaters started apparating in," Harry said, taking up the tale. "They kissed his robes, then formed a circle around him. He talked a bit about the Death Eaters that were there, and those that were missing. He crucio'd Avery. He talked about a faithful servant that he had at Hogwarts. I thought he meant you. He talked about the night he killed my parents, about how he hadn't foreseen that my mother's sacrifice could provide the type of protection that it did. He told them all about Quirrell and how he'd possessed him and how Wormtail had brought Bertha Jorkins to him and he'd tortured her for information about the tournament, how he came up with this plan to portkey me out of there."

Harry paused here, because his body began to ache with the memory of what came next. "And then he . . . and then he used the cruciatus on me." He felt Snape's arm tighten around him, and he leaned into the supportive embrace a little further. He looked up at Snape again, and the older man had no doubt of his sincerity when he said, "I wanted to die, Professor. It hurt so bad, and I just wanted it to end. Cedric was dead, and he was going to kill me and feed me to Nagini. I was so scared, and I'd been in pain the entire time from the scar on my head, and I knew I had no chance. I just wanted it over. I thought he'd keep using that curse on me until my heart gave out, and then it wouldn't hurt any more. I'm ashamed now to say how much I was looking forward to that end."

"You were fourteen," Snape said. "Fully grown wizards have felt the very same way, and you were still a slip of a boy. You were surrounded by cruel and sadistic men and women who wanted nothing more than to see the Dark Lord torture and humiliate you. I think you can be forgiven for your pessimism."

"I wet myself when he used the curse," Harry confessed, dropping his eyes, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. "I would likely have rolled on the ground like a wounded dog if I hadn't been tied to that stone."

Snape used a long finger to raise Harry's chin so that the young man was looking at him again. "Losing control of bodily functions is a common occurrence when under the cruciatus. One hurts so much that one loses awareness of everything but the pain until after the fact. Be assured that you are not the only wizard who has lost control of their bladder, or their bowels, while under the effects of the curse."

Well, if Harry could be thankful for anything, it was that he hadn't eaten much for dinner prior to going into the maze. "Have you ever had it used on you?" he asked.

"Of course. Voldemort was a cruel and unforgiving master. The night I returned to him, a few short hours after you had escaped from him, the moment I apparated into his presence, I was on the ground, writhing in pain. He had convinced himself that I had betrayed him, that I was now Dumbledore's man. He cursed me, and he let others curse me when he grew tired. He finally gave me leave to speak so that I could plead my case for my return to the fold. But I, like you, had reached the point where I would have welcomed death as an end to the pain."

"Yeah, after being cursed multiple times. He'd only used it on me once!" Harry said, ashamed of himself for his reaction.

"You were _fourteen_! No one would expect a fourteen-year old wizard to be so hardened to the effects of the cruciatus curse that it could be borne stoically. You survived, Harry. _That_ is what is important. You kept your wits about you, and when you had the opportunity, you got yourself out of there. Do not feel embarrassed about what you had to endure to get there."

"I just felt so . . . little and . . . scared." Harry bit at his lower lip after he made this confession.

Snape ran his thumb over that lip to keep the boy from abusing it. "You _were_ little, and if you hadn't been afraid I would have questioned your mental faculties. But you are here now, and I, for one, am grateful." He leaned in and kissed Harry briefly and chastely. "It is getting a bit late. Would you like to finish this another night?"

"No," Harry said, his lip tingling from the other man's touch. "No, I want to finish it. If you're not too tired."

"I am fine. Let us continue then. The Dark Lord had used the curse on you. You were sure he was going to curse you to death. Tell me what happened then."

"He told Wormtail to untie me and give me back my wand. He said we were going to duel. He made me bow. He hit me with the cruciatus again before I could even think of what to do. He asked me if I didn't want him to do that again. I wouldn't answer him – I decided I wasn't going to play his stupid game while he killed me. He tried to imperio me into answering him, but I was able to throw it off. He was going to crucio me again, but I dove behind a head stone. He was taunting me, and the Death Eaters were laughing, and I just knew that the end had finally come. He was going to kill me. There was no one there to help me, no one to sacrifice themselves for me. But I decided that if I was going to die, I was going to do it standing up, not kneeling at his feet. So I jumped out from behind the headstone, and I tried to disarm him."

"You used expelliarmus?" Snape asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"What else did I know?" Harry defended himself. "I didn't expect it to work, but at least I was going to go down fighting. But then . . . something totally unexpected happened." Harry lay with his eyes closed, head against Snape's shoulder, the events of that night burned into his memory. "He used avada kedavra. Our curses hit each other, and our wands were connected by this golden beam of light. My wand was vibrating, but I couldn't have let it go even if I'd wanted to. Voldemort's was, too. We were both raised up into the air and then set down again some distance away. The beam of light started . . . arcing, and it made this golden cage around us that the Death Eaters couldn't penetrate. It was just me and Voldemort inside.

"And then I heard phoenix song. It filled me with such hope. It told me not to break the connection. There was this . . . bead along the connection, and the closer it got to me, the hotter my wand got until I thought it would burst apart and maybe take me with it. So I concentrated with everything I had on getting that bead to go back toward Voldemort. I might not be very smart or powerful, but I can certainly be stubborn when I need to be, and I just . . . forced that little bead right into Voldemort's wand. I could see that he was as surprised as I was by what was going on, and I thought that maybe he was a little bit afraid, too.

"Once the bead touched his wand, a body started to come out of it. Not a real body, of course, but like a smokey ghost. It was Cedric. He told me to hold on. And then there was an old man, and a young girl. Bertha Jorkins. They were all encouraging me to hold on, not to let him get me. And then . . . and then, Mum was there," Harry said softly. "She said dad was coming. And then he was there, too."

A couple of fresh tears squeezed out of Harry's eyes, but he let them be. "Dad told me that once the connection was broken, they would give me time to get to the portkey. Cedric asked me to bring his body back to his parents. I broke the connection, and I ran back to the portkey. Mum and Dad and the others gathered around Voldemort so that he couldn't see me, but the Death Eaters could, and they were trying to curse me. Voldemort was screaming at them to stupefy me so that he could finish me off himself. I managed to make it back to Cedric. I summoned the cup, and we left the graveyard together."

"And you landed back at Hogwarts." Snape would remember that moment for the rest of his life.

"Yes," Harry said. "Dumbledore was there, and Fudge. And Moody. He took me away, said we were going to the hospital wing. I was numb – in shock, I think. I just let him drag me along. We went to his office. He kept asking me what had happened. He wanted to know how Voldemort had come back. He told me he was the one who put my name in the Cup. He told me all the things he'd done to help me get through the tournament. And then you and Dumbledore and McGonagall were there. I'd never seen the Headmaster look so angry!"

"He was quite perturbed when he discovered that Moody had taken you away," Snape said. "He ordered Minerva and me to follow him, and we came after you."

"I was very glad that you did. I just couldn't believe what he was telling me. I think he was planning to kill me and take my body back to Voldemort when you all came in.

"After you left to get the veritaserum, Dumbledore opened that trunk of Moody's, and we could see him way down in the bottom. Crouch had kept him there all year. Then we just waited, and Crouch began to transform back into himself. Then you came back. You heard the answers he gave to Dumbledore's questions.

"After he sent you off again, we went up to his office – Sirius was waiting for me there. Dumbledore made me tell him what happened. Fawkes healed my leg, the leg that had been hurt by the spider early on in the maze. Dumbledore thought it was more important that I hear Crouch's story and tell him everything that had happened before I got medical attention, I guess. Thank Merlin the bird cared enough to see to it. After I was healed up, he took me to the hospital wing for the night. I woke up to shouting."

"Who was shouting?"

"Who wasn't? McGonagall, Fudge. You were there – you know. You don't need me to tell you how Fudge refused to pull his head out of his arse and listen to the truth. And I'm sure you don't want to discuss how Dumbledore made you and Sirius shake hands and promise to play nice." Harry was silent for a moment. "I didn't understand what Dumbledore meant when he sent you away. I didn't know that he was sending you back to him."

"It was only a matter of time. We'd planned that I would say that I waited at Dumbledore's request, that in waiting to appear, I retained my position as his spy inside Hogwarts. The Dark Lord was . . . angry that I hadn't appeared immediately when he called. He thought that I had betrayed him, that I was completely in Dumbledore's camp. I thought that he was going to kill me before I could even try to explain my cover story. He finally vented his anger, and I was able to convince him that I was still loyal to him, that I still lived to serve him."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Harry said sincerely. "I'm sorry I didn't understand. I'm sorry I took your sacrifice for granted, that I didn't even know you were making that horrible, unendurable sacrifice."

Snape continued to run his fingers through Harry's hair. "That is over now. We both survived, and the Dark Lord did not. That is what matters now."

"Yes," Harry agreed with a yawn. "So that's it, I think. My fourth year over. Cedric was dead, Voldemort was back, and I went back to the Dursleys."

"Which, of course, we're not talking about."

"Right," Harry confirmed. He put his head down on Snape's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was late, but more than that, talking about Cedric's death had tired him out. He should get up and go, but all he really wanted was to stay here, snuggled up next to Snape, and just . . . be.

"It is late," Snape said quietly, echoing Harry's thoughts.

"Hmmm," Harry agreed without moving.

"You should probably go."

"Hmmm." Harry felt boneless, lethargic.

"Would you like to stay?" Snape offered. "On the sofa, I mean. You seem quite exhausted. If you would like to stay, rather than traipse back up to your room, I would have no objection."

"That would be brilliant," Harry muttered sleepily. "The walk seems quite daunting." He picked his head up and looked at the older man. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Snape stroked down Harry's cheek with a single finger. "I do not mind. I will get you a blanket."

Snape extracted himself from beneath the sleepy young man. Harry immediately slumped sideways onto the sofa, drawing up his knees and closing his eyes. When Snape returned with the bedding, Harry was breathing deeply in sleep. Snape draped the blanket over him and stood looking down at him for a long moment before turning and heading for his own bed.


	21. Chapter 21

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-one

"We have reached your fifth year," Snape said as they sat down to their customary tea and biscuits in his quarters. "A year which was preceded by an eventful summer."

"I'll say," Harry said, munching a biscuit. "Dementors in Little Whinging!"

"Sent there by Dolores Umbridge."

"Yeah. That was just the first sign of a year that was going to be bloody hell from start to finish."

"So tell me about the dementors. Unless that violates our rule that prohibits talking about home life."

"No, that should be safe," Harry said with a slight smile. "It was night. I was out walking." He didn't tell Snape he'd been brooding in the play park about the lack of contact that he'd had with his friends that summer, or the confrontation he'd hoped to have with Dudley and his friends, or his baiting of Dudley as they'd walked back to the Dursleys together. That was really irrelevant to the issue of dementors. "My cousin was with me. It was really hot that day, but suddenly, it was cold, and all the street lamps went out. I knew instantly what it was. Dudley could feel the cold and the despair, but had no idea what had caused it, of course. Thought it was me. He freaked out and hit me, made me drop my wand. He started to run right at them. I was able to conjure a patronus and chased them away."

Of course, there was more to the story than that, but he certainly wasn't going to go into detail about how his uncle had reacted.

"And as a result of that incident, you were summoned to a hearing before the Ministry."

"Yes. I got a letter that night saying I'd been expelled. But then another letter arrived, telling me to stay put, that Dumbledore was trying to get the expulsion overturned. Then I got another letter saying that I was only being suspended, not expelled. It was an interesting night all around."

"Mmm. Sounds like it."

"Something else happened that night. Aunt Petunia mentioned you."

Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Your aunt mentioned me?"

"Well, not by name. I was explaining what had happened, and I told them about the dementors. My uncle asked what those were, and my aunt said they guarded the wizard prison. I was shocked, of course, that she knew that. I asked her how. She said 'that awful boy' had mentioned them once to my mother. At the time, I thought she meant my father, but of course, after I saw your memories, I knew she meant you.

"She also got a letter from Dumbledore that night. Of course, I didn't figure out who it was from until later. It said something cryptic like, 'remember my last.' It obviously meant something to her, because she refused to let Uncle Vernon toss me out of the house."

"Your uncle was going to throw you out?"

"Well, I'd gotten his precious son injured, hadn't I?"

"But Petunia made him let you stay?"

Harry nodded. "She wasn't happy about it, but she'd been reminded of her duty. I suppose I should have been grateful, but . . . they never made it easy."

Harry had ventured into talking about his family for the first time, and Snape thought it best to steer him away from that before he realized it and became self-conscious about it.

"Albus was beside himself when he heard you'd been suspended. He stormed off to the Ministry in a hail of whirling robes and righteous indignation."

Harry really didn't want to talk about his relationship with Albus Dumbledore that year, either. He remembered acutely the way he'd felt when Dumbledore had ignored him, refusing even to look him in the eye. He knew now the reason behind the old man's actions, but he'd never forget the feeling of being left behind by the man he'd come to worship.

"He came to my hearing," Harry said. "If he hadn't, I would have been convicted, and I would have been expelled from school. You likely would have never seen me again, if you want to look at the bright side," he joked.

"That would not have been the bright side," Snape said seriously.

"You might have thought so back then," Harry pointed out.

Snape tipped his head in concession. "Were you frightened at the hearing?"

"Yes," Harry said honestly. "They had the power to snap my wand. It amazed me that given everything I had to lose, at the age of fifteen, I wasn't even allowed to have an adult in the room with me. I asked Mr. Weasley to go in with me, but he said he couldn't. What kind of justice system is it that can rob a child of his education and his very way of life without even providing him with an advocate or allowing him to obtain one on his own? If Dumbledore hadn't been Dumbledore, he probably wouldn't have been allowed in either. Fudge had already made his mind up, and certainly other members of the Wizengamot would have sided with him. I would have been expelled and cut loose from wizarding society, and likely Voldemort would have had little trouble tracking me down and picking me off."

"But you were not expelled, and you came back to school to rumor and suspicion," Snape noted.

"Yeah. Nothing new there. What _was_ new was that I could see the thestrals."

"Because of Diggory," Snape stated.

Harry nodded. "I'd never even thought about what powered the carriages before that. Just assumed it was magic. Strange that we don't learn about thestrals until fifth year. There must be younger kids who can see them. Neville and Luna were able to see them from the day they started school."

"They can be rather dangerous, under the right circumstances. It is perhaps wiser to wait until students have attained a certain level of maturity before exposing them to close contact with the creatures."

"Hmm, I suppose," Harry said. "But we started off the year without Hagrid and with yet another Defense teacher."

"Umbridge," Snape growled.

"Well, yeah, she was a right bitch in that very first lesson. But perhaps you shouldn't be casting stones, eh? I remember the first potions lesson of that year. You vanished my potion, so I didn't get any marks at all. Git!"

"That was a particularly contentious year, wasn't it?" Snape remembered. "We might do better now to try and put that behind us. All I can do now is apologize for the way I treated you and tell you that I am grateful that despite my treatment of you, you were able to obtain an E on your OWL."

Harry forced the anger back down where it came from. He could live with that. "Yes. We can vent all of our anger on Umbridge. She gave me detention in that very first class and sent me to McGonagall with a note. McGonagall warned me to watch my step with Umbridge, but she just made me so angry."

"So now would be an appropriate time to tell me what she did to you in those detentions."

"What do you mean?" Harry innocently, giving himself away by rubbing the back of his right hand.

"Let's not equivocate," Snape suggested. "We teachers were aware that something was going on in those detentions, but no one ever came to one of us and complained. What exactly was she doing to you?"

Harry glared angrily at Snape. "You _knew_ something was happening, and no one cared enough to ask?!"

"None of my Slytherins were ever given detention by Umbridge," Snape said. "It wasn't my place to question her."

"Apparently it wasn't anyone's place," Harry noted sourly.

"Would you have admitted what was going on if someone _had _questioned you?"

"I don't know. The evidence was a little difficult to hide, if anyone had cared enough to look."

"Evidence?" Snape said with a puzzled expression.

Harry thrust his hand under Snape's nose. Snape grabbed hold of the hand and lowered it so he could actually see it. The words were still clearly legible. "I must not tell lies," he said, tracing a finger over the letters. He looked up at Harry, horrified now. "She used a charmed quill on you?"

Harry pulled his hand away. "Every time I had detention with her."

Snape took Harry's hand again, this time very gently, and rubbed a thumb over the scar there. "I have a potion that may fade these scars some. Charmed quills use dark magic, so it will not completely disappear, but I think we could lessen it somewhat."

Harry turned his hand over and twined his fingers through Snape's. "Thank you, sir," he said. "I would appreciate that."

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter, that not one of us intervened with Umbridge when she was abusing you in this way."

Harry shrugged. "It's too late to worry about that now," he said. "I survived."

"Yes, you survived," Snape said with a sigh. "Yet another thing that you had to endure."

"The quidditch ban was worse," Harry said.

Snape let go of Harry's hand, belatedly realizing how inappropriate it was to sit here holding the hand of a student.

"Yet again, you survived," Snape noted.

"Yeah, I did. At the time it seemed like the worst thing that had ever happened to me. We hadn't been able to play the previous year because of the tournament, and then when I got banned . . . Merlin, but I missed quidditch!"

"Well, at least your lifetime ban turned into only a one-year ban. That had to be some consolation when you returned for your sixth year."

"Yes, but then Sirius was gone, and nothing I'd thought was so vital before seemed important any more."

"I would imagine," Snape murmured, trying to sound sympathetic. "Let me get that salve for you," he said after a moment of heavy silence.

**##########**

"Professor McGonagall called me up to her office today," Harry told Snape at their next meeting.

"Oh? And what did our erstwhile headmistress want with you?"

"She said she thought I was ready to take my NEWT in Transfiguration, and she wondered why I hadn't approached her about taking it yet."

Snape considered this. "And do _you_ feel that you are ready to take your Transfiguration NEWT?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so."

"Is there a reason that you are procrastinating?"

"If I don't have Transfiguration anymore, I'd only have one class left. What would I do with all that spare time?"

"That is a dilemma that many teachers wish they faced," Snape observed. "Have you decided yet what you wish to do with your life?"

"No."

"Then perhaps you could use some of that copious spare time to research the possibilities. Identify potential careers that you might have interest in, then investigate them – talk to members of those professions, follow them around for a day to see for yourself what they do and whether it interests you."

"I could do that," Harry supposed.

"There is also a myriad of opportunities for you to volunteer. At St. Mungo's. At a children's home. There are any number of Muggle charities that would be thrilled to have an able-bodied young man donate his time and energy. You could assist some of the teachers here, with marking and classroom preparation. Your dear friend Hagrid would no doubt love to have your assistance."

"I already spend half my time with Hagrid," Harry confessed. And he did. Hagrid was the only person here (aside from Snape) whose company Harry craved. He missed Ron and Hermione with an ache that was bone-deep. Writing letters and seeing them infrequently was just not enough. When Hagrid wasn't in class, Harry could almost always be found at the hut, helping Hagrid tend his various critters, writing his lesson plans out for him, helping him to mark homework.

"My point is that you have options."

"I know," Harry said with a sigh. "I guess there's not much more I need to know to take the exam. Professor McGonagall made that pretty plain. I suppose I'll take it."

"I have no doubt but that you will do well," Snape said graciously.

"Do you . . . do you think I'm ready for the Potions NEWT, Professor?"

Snape considered this carefully. "You have made great strides this year, Mr. Potter. I never thought I'd say this, but you have the makings of a fine brewer."

"Thanks," Harry said, flushing to the roots of his hair.

"Were you to take your NEWT now, I believe that you would do quite well. However, I do believe there are one or two other things I could teach you."

Harry looked up at Snape. "I want to learn everything that you can teach me, Severus." His voice was low and full of hope and promise. Snape was unable to look away from the frank appraisal in those green eyes. Finally, he forced himself to tear his gaze away, and he cleared his throat.

"Tell me what happened the night Arthur Weasley was attacked."

Harry smiled at the obvious diversion, but he said, "It was the night I kissed Cho Chang."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Don't act surprised. I know you saw that memory during Occlumency."

"I did," Snape confessed, "briefly. Was that the only time?"

"A man should have some secrets, don't you think?" Harry said coyly.

"Hmm. Mr. Weasley," Snape prompted.

"Yeah. I was asleep. I had a dream. Or a vision. I was inside Nagini, and I attacked Mr. Weasley. I woke up everyone in the dorm. My scar was killing me. I threw up. Someone went to get McGonagall. She took me to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore had been refusing to look at me all year, and that night, as I was telling him what I'd seen, he was looking everywhere but at me. He knew, of course. He knew what had happened, that I hadn't had a dream or a vision, that Voldemort had unknowingly sent those images to me. If he'd only thought to tell me, if I'd only known . . . Anyway, he sent one of the portrait people to check on Mr. Weasley, and he sent Phineas Nigellus to tell Sirius we were coming. Professor McGonagall went and got the rest of the Weasleys, and we all portkeyed to Grimmauld Place. But there was a moment, just before we were pulled away, when I met Dumbledore's eyes. Something happened. I felt this surge of hatred, and I wanted to kill him. Voldemort was still in my head.

"It was a really long night, waiting at Grimmauld Place for some word of Mr. Weasley's condition. I tried to talk to Sirius about what was going on inside me, but he just brushed off my concerns. I think he must have known – Dumbledore had probably told him. Even Sirius refused to tell me. If they had told me, if I had known that it was possible for that to happen, I would have questioned what happened later."

"That's what the occlumency was for," Snape pointed out.

"Yes, but no one ever told me that. Don't you think that if I had known that I would have tried harder to learn? No one ever told me why it was so important. No one trusted me with the knowledge that would have prevented Sirius' death."

"I'm sure it is no consolation now, but I argued from the first that keeping information from you was not going to be helpful."

"You thought Dumbledore was coddling me," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, I did," Snape admitted. "The knowledge that he would have imparted to you would have been difficult for you to hear. I cannot deny that anything that made your life harder would have appealed to me back then."

Harry let that go in the interest of completing this portion of his story. "We went to visit Mr. Weasley in hospital the following day. We overheard them talking with Moody. He said that Voldemort was possessing me. I freaked out a little bit, thought I was putting everyone in danger. I was packing up my stuff. I was going to leave Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore sent Phineas Nigellus to tell me to stay – apparently he somehow knew that I'd overheard Moody and figured I'd take off. But he wouldn't say anything but 'stay,' which pissed me off. So then I got all martyry and decided I'd stay in my room to keep the others safe.

"But then Hermione turned up," Harry said, remembering her "intervention" with a smile. "She and Ginny ganged up on me. Hermione told me to stop feeling sorry for myself, and Ginny told me that based on her own experiences, I was _not_ being possessed. Christmas got a lot better after that."

"I was there when Dumbledore sent Phineas to you," Snape said. "Phineas came hurrying into his portrait in the headmaster's office, huffing and puffing and bellowing that you were packing your things. Dumbledore did _not_ know that you'd overheard Moody, but he certainly didn't want you going anywhere. He sent Phineas to you with that cryptic message and instructed him not to tell you anything else. He was most anxious while we awaited Phineas' return. Phineas reported that you'd been quite disrespectful, both to him and about the headmaster, but that you were staying put. Did you really think that you'd been possessed?"

"I couldn't explain what happened any other way. It explained why Dumbledore hadn't looked at me all year, and why I witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley the way I had."

"Hmm. I suppose it would, to a fifteen-year old Gryffindor," Snape teased.

"Anyway," Harry said pointedly, ignoring Snape, "we went to visit Mr. Weasley in St. Mungo's the following day, and you'll never guess who we ran into."

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Ha ha. No, Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Ah. Your former esteemed Defense professor."

"Yes. We were looking for the tea room and ended up on the spell damage ward. He saw us – he couldn't remember us – thought we were there for his autograph – but he kind of pulled us in and wouldn't let us go." Harry paused for a moment. "We saw Neville's parents while we were there. You knew about them?"

"Of course," Snape said. "Everyone knew about Frank and Alice."

"How could you do that to Neville, then? You knew about his parents, knew that he'd been raised by his grandmother. You had to know how hard it was for him. And still you treated him like rubbish."

"His parents had nothing to do with the fact that the boy was a walking disaster in the potions classroom," Snape defended himself.

"Yeah, but you didn't have to be so mean about it."

"Mr. Longbottom turned out just fine, did he not?"

"He did," Harry agreed. "He turned out more than fine."

"Then the way I treated him is pointless now, is it not?"

"Not entirely, no," Harry said softly. "Neville's my friend. And we're going to . . . we're going to be involved, right? I'd like it if you got along with my friends."

Snape's eyes softened. "I suppose I should have realized that you're a package deal. What with being a Gryffindor and all."

"Yes, you should have," Harry said firmly. "I don't come with family, but I do come with friends that mean a great deal to me. I would have a difficult time if I had to choose between two things that I . . . care very much about."

Snape stared at the earnest young man before him for a long moment before saying, "I will not force you to make that choice."

"Good," said Harry. "Now where were we? Oh, yes. Christmas. Just before we were due back at Hogwarts, someone paid me a visit."

"Oh?" Snape said with a curious quirk of an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You."

"Yes, I remember," Snape said.

"I'll certainly never forget it. You and Sirius fighting like junkyard dogs."

"With little Harry Potter between us, attempting to keep us from coming to blows," Snape remembered with a smile.

"Hey, I wasn't so little! You two really hated each other, didn't you?"

"I think that went without saying then, and it certainly doesn't bear talking about now."

"I agree," Harry said, knowing that talk of Sirius, still, after all this time, would only bring up bad feelings. Harry had loved him – Snape had hated him. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that. "Should we talk about the occlumency lessons, or are they another thing best left untalked about?"

"There may be some aspects of the lessons that we should discuss," Snape said, and Harry knew he was remembering his precipitate trip into the pensieve. Harry sort of wished they could skip over that, but he supposed there was at least one thing he needed to say.

"I never apologized for that. I'm very sorry to have violated your privacy in that way, sir. If I had known what I was going to see, I certainly never would have done it. And I want you to know that I never told my friends what I'd seen. I was . . . too ashamed of my father to want anyone to know what he was like back then."

"I accept your apology, Mr. Potter. It was a long time ago."

"Yes, it was. The night of that first lesson, when I got back to my dorm, my scar began to hurt, and I felt Voldemort's extreme happiness. I didn't learn until the next day that he was celebrating the mass breakout from Azkaban. I was half convinced that you'd _opened_ my mind to Voldemort during our lesson." Before Snape could respond to that almost-accusation, Harry had moved on. "And it was right after that that I went into Hogsmeade with Cho Chang. One disaster right after the other."

"Your first foray into the wiles of feminine company?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a self-conscious smile. "I liked her. Thought she was very pretty. But talking with her was so awkward. She spent a lot of time crying. And she wanted to talk about Cedric, which was just . . . not on. That Valentine's Day, Hermione had asked me to meet me at lunch, and when I told Cho that, she just . . . exploded."

"You'd made a date with your female best friend in the middle of a date with girl you were romantically interested in?" Snape asked incredulously.

"No! Well, yeah, actually, except that it wasn't a date. Hermione asked me to meet her, said it was important. Cho cried and left me in Madam Puddifoots. I had no idea what was going on. Hermione explained to me in detail later what I'd done wrong. Being with girls just seemed so . . . impossible."

"Yet you kissed her," Snape probed gently. He'd _almost_ seen that memory during Harry's occlumency lessons.

"Yeah, one time. It was nothing like kissing _you_," Harry confessed shyly.

Snape stared down at the demure young man sitting across from him and was suddenly taken by the strongest desire to just devour that innocence, take it and use it and twist it in his hands until it was writhing and quivering beneath him. He felt himself go almost instantly hard, and he forced himself to take up his tea cup and look away from the temptation before him.

"It is getting late," he said, and he was quite glad that his voice sounded almost normal. Indeed, their meetings seemed to be running longer and longer. "Perhaps you should return to your room?"

"Oh, okay," Harry said, looking taken aback at the abrupt dismissal. He placed his cup on the table and brushed biscuit crumbs from his lap. He stood up and looked questioningly at Snape. The man always saw him to the door, yet he remained seated, saucer and cup in his lap.

It was obvious to Snape that Harry had no idea what effect he had on him, and that surge of want for the boy's total naivete coursed back through him, doing nothing at all for his attempts to get his body under control. As quietly but firmly as he could, he said, "Good night, Mr. Potter. I shall see you on Friday."

"Good night, sir," Harry said, still obviously perplexed. But he gave one last shy smile and turned and left Snape with his growing problem.


	22. Chapter 22

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**Note:** Hi, all. I'm posting this tonight because I won't have internet access until rather late tomorrow night.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-two

"Are we okay?" Harry asked the next time he was sitting with Snape. "When we ended things last week, you were kind of . . . strange."

"I apologize if I hurt you," Snape said. "I found myself with . . . inappropriate . . . feelings, and I thought it prudent to remove temptation, as it were."

Harry munched on a biscuit while he worked this out. When it dawned on him what Snape was saying, a sunny smile broke out across his face. "You mean me?" he asked, incredibly pleased-looking.

Snape smiled back, unable to stop himself. "Yes, you. Now let us turn our attention to your interview with Rita Skeeter, before I find it necessary to eject you from the premises again."

Harry continued smiling, visibly pleased with the thought that Snape found him attractive. "That was Hermione's idea," he said. "She thought if I got my story out there, maybe the _Prophet_ would back off a bit and people would maybe begin to question the Ministry's stance on Voldemort."

"And did it work?"

"Well, the mail I got in response to the article was fifty fifty, I guess. Some people thought I was nutters, but others believed me. And it felt good just to tell the story, finally. And I'm not gonna lie – the fact that it pissed Umbridge off was a huge bonus."

Snape nodded his agreement at that. "She paid you back."

Harry's humor disappeared quickly. "Yes, she did. Did Dumbledore tell you about that scene in his office?"

"Only in the vaguest of terms. How did Umbridge discover your little club?"

"Marietta Edgecomb. Dobby warned us Umbridge was coming. We all ran. Everyone else got away. I would have, too, but frigging Draco Malfoy tripped me. Umbridge dragged me up to the headmaster's office. Fudge was already there with a couple of aurors. I don't know what they were doing there. Umbridge had Marietta brought in. Kingsley hexed her so she wouldn't remember anything. Umbridge accused me of violating Educational Decree Whatever, and Dumbledore told them that when we met the first time in the Hogs Head, the educational decree hadn't gone into effect, so we hadn't broken any rules. Unfortunately, she had the parchment that everyone had signed at the first meeting, so she had everyone's names. Dumbledore told Fudge that it was _his_ group and took all responsibility for it. I tried to argue, but he told me to be quiet. Fudge was excited, of course, thought he was finally going to have his way with Dumbledore. When he tried to arrest him, Dumbledore did some timey-wimey thing and everyone else in the office just . . . froze. He told me to study occlumency really hard, and then he grabbed Fawkes and disappeared.

"And then something even more frightening happened. The next day, Umbridge had me dragged up to her office, and she was _nice to me_. Well, she was pretending anyway. Wanted me to drink tea with her. I'm sure the tea was drugged."

Snape nodded. "Veritaserum. I brewed it for her."

"It was _you_? I assumed she got it from the Ministry."

"No, she came to me, told me she needed truth serum. I, of course, suspected that she was going to use it on students, quite likely on you, so I . . . brewed it accordingly."

Harry smiled. "You mean you _mis_brewed it."

"Just so," Snape said, his thin smile just visible over the rim of his tea cup. "What did she ask you?"

"She wanted to know where Dumbledore was. And then she wanted to know where Sirius was. But I hadn't even drunk the stupid tea – I suspected she'd drugged it, so I pretended. And then we got interrupted by Fred and George's fireworks show, so that was that."

They sat silently for a moment, sipping tea and eating biscuits. Finally, Harry verbalized what he'd been thinking for a while now. "And that was probably about the time I looked into your pensieve, wasn't it? Can I just say again I'm very sorry, Professor, that I violated your privacy in that way? I have no excuse other than that I was a curious snot who couldn't keep my nose out of other people's business. It's probably some consolation to you that what I saw in there completely destroyed the impression I had of my father."

"I have to admit that, at that time, I believed that what you witnessed would have enhanced your opinion of your father and his friends. I believed that you were as arrogant and cruel as he was."

"But I wasn't," Harry said earnestly. "I knew exactly how you felt, being treated like that. I . . . I was treated the same way at home. I was so ashamed of my father, and I couldn't believe that all everyone ever said was how great he was. I . . . um I firecalled Sirius, and told him what I'd seen. Because I was desperate for an explanation! I'd never thought to feel sorry for you, and I needed a reason for what I'd seen. I needed Sirius to tell me that you'd done something to deserve their treatment of you. He and Lupin told me that you and my dad hated each other at first sight, that you gave as good as you got, and that I should excuse their behavior because they were only fifteen. Same age I was then. But none of that explained why four of them ganged up on you when you were doing nothing but minding your own business and humiliated you like that in front of everyone. I'm sorry he did that to you, Professor."

"I will accept your apology for looking into my pensieve, Mr. Potter, but you have no need to apologize for the deeds of your father. They are in the past, and we are here now."

"Yes, we are, aren't we?" Harry agreed happily. "But I _am _sorry. I've been sorry for a long time, and I should haven't have waited this long to tell you so."

"Thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me. I dislike having to cut our time short, but I have lessons plans that must be updated. Would you be terribly upset if we ended here this evening?"

"No problem. Hermione sent me a book on warding that I wanted to get started on anyway." He gobbled down one last biscuit, then took his leave.

**##########**

"In looking back through my diary," Snape said when they met again, "I was left wondering if you might perhaps know what happened to Mr. Montague all those years ago."

"Montague?" Harry asked, and it was immediately obvious to Snape that Harry knew _something_.

"Yes, Montague. You remember the Captain of the Quidditch team, disappeared at some point during your fifth year, reappeared some time later in the boy's toilet? Surely you remember."

"Yes, I remember," Harry said. "If I know something, and I tell you, do you promise not to extract any sort of revenge?"

"Against you?" Snape asked, his surprise that Harry might have been responsible for what happened obvious.

"No, not against me. But I know what happened, and I know who did it. And you haven't promised."

Snape inhaled a deep breath. He supposed it didn't matter, after all this time, so he agreed. "I promise."

"It was Fred and George," Harry said. "Montague was trying to take points from them, and they stuffed him in the vanishing cabinet."

"And no one thought to say anything when it became obvious that a search was being conducted for him?" Snape asked, outraged. "Or when he turned up not even knowing his own name? Did none of you think that it might have helped had we known what happened to him?"

Harry lowered his eyes, ashamed of himself and his friends. They'd been more concerned about causing trouble for Umbridge than about assisting a fellow student and human being. They'd not even given a second thought to what Montague and his parents must have gone through after Montague's reappearance. "We should have," he admitted softly. "Hermione said we should."

"But even she did nothing," Snape stated.

"Yeah. We were awful."

"You were teenagers," Snape conceded. "Selflessness is not a trait common to that age group."

"Well, I'm sorry anyway, not that it does any good now. If I had it to do over, I hope I'd make better decisions."

"Yes, well, you know what they say about hindsight. Let us move on. Though I think we can forego discussion about that year's Quidditch Cup."

"Right. We certainly don't need to mention that Gryffindor won that year."

"No, we certainly don't. That was just before your OWL's."

"I remember. That was a stressful time. Preparing for the exams was almost harder than actually taking them. Most of them weren't so bad. DADA was great. They asked me to conjure my patronus. The examiner nearly passed out from excitement. Even Potions wasn't so bad, without my mean old teacher there to harass me. But we never finished our Astronomy practical – that was when Umbridge attacked McGonagall."

"Minerva was lucky that she recovered as quickly as she did," Snape remembered. "At her age, being hit by multiple stunners."

"And then . . . during the History of Magic exam . . ."

"All hell broke loose."

"Yeah," Harry said. "The vision that started it all."

"Will you be all right?" Snape asked softly.

Harry chewed on his lip for a bit. There was something he wanted, but wasn't sure he had the nerve to ask. "Could I . . . could we . . .?"

"What do you need?"

"Could we sit together again, like we did when we talked about Cedric?"

Snape smiled in understanding, then stood up and moved to the sofa beside Harry. The young man snuggled in next to him, nudged Snape's arm up until it rested over his shoulders. He smiled shyly up at Snape, and Snape couldn't help it – he simply _had _to drop a kiss on the boy's forehead.

"The vision," Harry began, settling his head on Snape's shoulder. "Voldemort showed me Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. I was all for running right off to London, but Hermione made me stop and think. She asked me to consider the possibility that Voldemort was trying to lure me to the Ministry, in a trap to kill me. I'd already considered that, but even if he was, how could I just ignore it? Dumbledore was gone. McGonagall was gone. I couldn't just do nothing. Hermione suggested that we use Umbridge's fire to check to see whether Sirius was at Grimmauld Place."

"But you were caught."

"Yes, Ginny and Luna created a diversion, but she still caught us. I was able to talk to Kreacher, though. He lied to me and said that Sirius had left but he was there the whole time. That's when Umbridge came in. She sent for you, as you know, and for the veritaserum. After you left, she threatened me with a cruciatus."

"She did _what?_"

"You're not really surprised are you?"

"No," Snape conceded. "I'm not surprised."

"Hermione stopped her by telling her that Dumbledore had hidden a weapon in the forest, and she said we would show her the way. What did you do after you left her office?"

"I realized what your cryptic message meant," Snape said. "I realized that you thought the Dark Lord had hold of Black. I sent a patronus message to him at Grimmauld Place, asking him to confirm that he was, indeed, still in residence. I received a snide message in return, confirming his whereabouts. I kept an eye on Umbridge's office, and I saw her lead you and Miss Granger out and into the forest. When some time passed, and none of you returned, I began to get even more concerned, and I alerted members of the Order. I sent another message to Black, telling him briefly what had transpired and asking him to stay at Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore was due there at any moment, and I wanted someone to let the Headmaster know that I suspected you had gone to the Ministry. It was my intention to search the forest for you, to be sure that you had gone."

"But Sirius was worried about me," Harry said sadly. "He wouldn't stay."

"He loved you," Snape said simply. "It was unrealistic for me to expect that he would stay away when you were in danger."

"But you tried," Harry pointed out.

"Not for his safety," Snape felt compelled to point out. "I needed him to pass information along to the Headmaster."

"Instead, he got his information from Kreacher."

"Yes. Now, what happened when you went into the forest with Umbridge?"

"Well, Hermione had told her that Dumbledore had a weapon hidden there. I had no idea what she was talking about, and really, neither did she. She had some vague plan that involved the centaurs coming to our rescue. They did show up, but they weren't any happier to see us than they were to see Umbridge. She insulted them, predictably, and they reacted badly, also predictably. Some of them carried her away, and the rest of them gathered around Hermione and me, trying to figure out what to do with us. They debated amongst themselves. Some of them said we were young and shouldn't be touched. Some of them thought that we should pay the price for bringing Umbridge into the forest. I don't know what they would have decided. Thank God Grawp showed up."

"The giant," Snape said.

"Yeah, Hagrid's brother. The centaurs attacked him, then Grawp chased them off. Hermione and I ran back toward school. We ran into the others – they'd managed to escape from Draco and his goons. It was Luna's idea that we fly the thestrals to London. I . . . I didn't want any of them to come with me, but they insisted. I should have found a way to make them stay. They could have been killed."

"You _were _very lucky," Snape commented. "Six relatively untested students – it was somewhat of a miracle that none of you were more seriously injured."

"Yes, it was bad enough as it was. So we got to the Ministry. I knew where we needed to go – I'd seen the door in my dreams enough, and I realized I'd seen it when I was in the Ministry for my hearing. We took a few detours – that place is absolutely insane. But we eventually found the prophecy room, and I located the spot where I'd seen Voldemort torturing Sirius. Ron found the prophecy with my name on it. I picked it up and then . . . and then Lucius Malfoy was there.

"I kept asking for Sirius, and the Death Eaters just laughed. I began to realize then that I'd led us all there, likely to our deaths, for nothing. I was trying to stall for time – I don't know why, exactly. I had no reason to think that anyone was coming to our rescue. They said the glass thing was a prophecy, so I asked about it. I pissed Bellatrix off by telling her that Voldemort was a half-blood, and she tried to curse me, but Lucius deflected her curse. He was worried that the prophecy would be broken.

"Malfoy seemed pleased to learn than I had no idea what the prophecy was or why I had to retrieve it. I told everyone to start smashing everything in sight, and we took off in the ensuing ruckus. Hermione, Neville, and I got separated from the others. Death Eaters came after us. One of them got Hermione. Neville got his nose and his wand broken. We finally met up with the others. Ron and Ginny were both injured. Then the Death Eaters found us again, and Luna got hurt. It was all falling apart. I thought to lead the Death Eaters away from the others – they were all hurt, and I had the prophecy, so I thought they'd not kill me for fear of breaking it. It worked – they came after me.

"I ran into this room and promptly fell down some stairs. I landed in the pit where the arch was. The Death Eaters all laughed," Harry said hollowly. "Then Neville appeared. Bellatrix crucio'd him. They were going to kill him. I was just about to hand over the prophecy to stop them when the cavalry arrived." Harry closed his eyes, an echo of the relief he'd felt then washing through him now.

"Neville and I tried to stay out of the way, but someone grabbed me. He was choking me. There was fighting going on all around, and I was slowly having the life choked out of me. Neville leaped up and poked the bloke holding me, and he let me go. Sirius yelled at me to take the prophecy and go. I tried. Neville had been hit with _tarantallegra_, and he couldn't walk. I was trying to help him, and the prophecy fell in the struggle. It broke. I could see the little figure inside, but I couldn't hear what it was saying. That was it. The prophecy was smashed, and I still didn't know what it said.

"Then Bellatrix sent Sirius through the veil." Snape put a comforting arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him close. "I didn't understand what had happened, you know?" Harry asked, looking up at Snape, the grief-stricken look on his face breaking Snape's heart. "I thought he'd just come out the other side. But he was gone. I tried to go after him, to pull him back out, because it was impossible that he was gone . . . that he was dead, but Remus wouldn't let me go. He dragged me away.

"By that point, Dumbledore and the other members of the Order had the Death Eaters pretty well taken care of. All but Bellatrix. She ran out. I went after her. I caught up with her in the Atrium. She taunted me about Sirius, and I . . . lost it, I guess. I . . . tried to crucio her."

Snape pulled away from Harry and looked down at the young man in surprise.

"It didn't work," Harry admitted. "It knocked her down, but she got right back up again. We dueled a little bit. She told me if I gave her the prophecy, she'd let me go." Harry made a disbelieving pffft noise. "Like I believed that! I told her that it had smashed, and that Voldemort knew and was angry. And then . . . he was there. He shot an AK at me, but Dumbledore had come, and he sent a statue between me and the curse. The two of them dueled. It was really quite an awesome show, if I hadn't been too freaked out and frightened to appreciate it.

"At one point, Voldemort disappeared, and I thought he'd decided to cut his losses and get out while he could. But then my head split open. Voldemort had possessed me, and he tried to get Dumbledore to kill me. I _wanted _him to kill me, just so that it could be over. I thought of Sirius, sure I'd be seeing him soon. And that emotion seemed to . . . drive Voldemort out. I was laying on the floor, shaking, and then all these people started to show up. Fudge came. He saw Voldemort. Couldn't deny it any longer after that. Dumbledore talked to him. I was kind of in shock, I guess. He gave me a portkey, and I arrived back in Dumbledore's office.

"I didn't want to be there. Phineas Nigellus wouldn't shut up, and I just couldn't stand it. I tried to leave, but the door was locked. Then the Headmaster returned. He probably told you what happened next. I kind of went mad. I threw some things, smashed others. Dumbledore said he could _understand what I was going through_, that _feeling pain proved that I was human_. But I didn't want to be human, not if it meant that I had to feel that way. I didn't want to be Harry Potter any longer. I just wanted it to be over.

"I tried again to leave, but the door was still locked. I demanded to be let out, and Dumbledore said he wouldn't let me leave until I'd listened to him. So I sat. And he talked. About the connection between me and Voldemort, how Voldemort learned of its existence and began to use it. He told me he'd _distanced_ himself from me all that year because he thought Voldemort would use that connection to spy on him. He told me that you'd been keeping him informed all year about my progress, or _lack_ of progress, with Occlumency, about the visions I kept having about the Department of Mysteries. I realized then that if I'd actually _tried_ to learn Occlumency, I might have been able to shut him out, then I never would have had the vision that led me to the Ministry. If he'd only _told_ me . . ."

"He told me that Kreacher had lied to me that night about Sirius being gone. He told me what you had done after I gave you that message, and how Sirius refused to stay behind when the others went to the Ministry. I yelled at him a bit. Then he said he was going to tell me everything. Finally.

"He told me that he knew when he left me with the Dursleys that I would suffer, but that it was the best way to protect me from Voldemort and his supporters. He told me why I had to keep going back there every year. He confessed that he should have told me everything sooner, but that he hadn't because he loved me or some such rubbish and didn't want to hurt me. Can you believe that? Then he told me why Voldemort had tried to kill me – because of the prophecy. He showed me the prophecy, told me what he thought it meant. That it could have applied to Neville as well until Voldemort chose me.

"He told me that someone had overheard part of the prophecy and reported it back to Voldemort. He _didn't _tell me that that _someone _was you. And he told me that the _power_ that I had that Voldemort didn't was love. Love. Can you believe that?"

Harry craned his neck to look up at Snape again. Snape looked down at him, somber and serious, and said, "Yes, I certainly can."

Harry smiled and settled his head back on Snape's shoulder. Then his smiled slowly melted away. "You know what the worst part of the whole thing was?"

"Everything about it was horrible," Snape said. "I can't imagine what you would choose as the worst part."

"Sirius had given me a present at Christmas. I hadn't even opened it. It was in my trunk. After he was gone, I found it, and I opened it. It was a two-way mirror. He had the other. He wrote me a note that said if I needed him, all I had to do was say his name into the mirror. I would have been able to talk to him directly that night. I would have known immediately that he was safe."

"Why had you not opened it?"

"He gave it to me when I was leaving at the Christmas holiday. He told me I could use it to let him know if you were being a git to me. I had no idea what it was, but I knew that I wasn't going to be the one that pulled him out of the safety of Grimmauld Place. So I tossed it into my trunk with no intention of ever opening it."

"You had no way of knowing," Snape said softly.

"No, I didn't," Harry agreed. "I was trying to keep him safe. But if I'd known . . . that whole fiasco at the Ministry wouldn't have happened. But then it occurred to me that Sirius might have come back as a ghost. So I tracked Nick down."

"Black would never have chosen that path," Snape said with quiet certainty.

"That's what Nick said. But I was hoping, you know, that I'd be able to see him again, talk to him. It was almost like losing him again."

Snape stroked a hand through Harry's hair, offering silent condolence for the young man's still-present grief. They sat quietly for a time, until Harry finished the tale of his tumultuous fifth year.

"And then I went back to the Dursleys for the summer."

"Albus told me that he had certain members of the Order give your relatives a warning?"

"He did. It helped a little, I guess. But he could never make them love me, so it's not like they suddenly turned into my 'family' or something."

"I am sorry that you were forced to endure that, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "I got through it. I'm here now, with you. And that's what matters."


	23. Chapter 23

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-three

"The summer after your fifth year was a quiet one, I believe?" Snape asked at their next meeting.

"Fairly," Harry said. "There was a lot going on in the world, I guess. But not much on Privet Drive. Scrimgeour got canned, Madam Bones was killed. I had a hard time getting any news. The Dursleys thought a teenager being interested in what was going on in the world was akin to Dudley wanting to take ballet lessons."

"My summer was a bit more interesting," Snape noted.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I had a visit from Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. Narcissa was concerned about the task her son had been given, and she sought my assistance. Her sister was suspicious of me and my loyalty to the Dark Lord, and I spent most of my time defending myself and my actions. I then made an unbreakable vow with Narcissa that if Draco could not could not complete the task, then I would do it for him."

"WHAT were you thinking?"

"I could hardly refuse. Had I done so, Bellatrix would have gone to the Dark Lord immediately with tales of my duplicity. I would not have lasted the week. It did not matter anyway, as I had already made a promise to the headmaster."

"He'd already found Gaunt's ring," Harry guessed. "He'd been cursed."

"Yes. So you see, my promise to Narcissa was simply a repetition of a promise I had already made."

"I first saw his hand when he came to get me in Little Whinging," Harry recalled. "He wanted me to go on a 'mission' with him. He wouldn't tell me what had happened. While he was there, he told me that Sirius had left me everything in his will, including the house. Uncle Vernon got really excited about that. He wasn't sure whether I'd be able to own Grimmauld Place, so he summoned Kreacher, which horrified the Dursleys," Harry said cheerfully. "Then he gave the Dursleys a little lecture on how badly they'd treated me. And then we left to go get Slughorn."

"And what was your first impression of Horace Slughorn?"

Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste. "He was pompous and self-important and basking in the glory of the more important and famous people he'd gathered around him."

"You didn't like him?"

"Not much. Couldn't understand why Dumbledore wanted him so badly. Until later, of course. He put up a fight about coming back, but you could tell that he was pleased that he was wanted. When we left there, Dumbledore dropped me off at the Burrow. He told me there that we'd be having private lessons once school started up. And he told me that I could tell Ron and Hermione about the prophecy."

"You had not told your friends?"

"I really hadn't had time. I was still processing it when school ended. Didn't seem like something you should share on parchment. I wasn't sure I wanted them to know, quite frankly. They'd put up with plenty already, just knowing me. To learn that it couldn't end until Voldemort killed me, or I killed him. Which, I have to say, at the time, seemed pretty damned unlikely. But they're my friends, and they took it well, and it was a relief to tell someone.

"I spent the rest of the summer with the Weasleys. Got my OWL results, which, I thought at the time, ended my dream of becoming an Auror. I'd gotten only an E in potions, you see, and my mean old Potions teacher required an O."

"Well you should be thankful, then, that Slughorn _was_ brought on board. He fell all over himself praising you in the staff room. And he kept your dream alive."

"For a while," Harry said. "I don't think I want to be an auror any more. It was all I could imagine back then, but now – now I think I'd rather not spend my life dealing every day with evil. I've had enough of people trying to kill me. So I know what I _don't _want to do. Now I have to figure out what I _do_ want to do."

"You have some time yet."

"Maybe I'll become a potions master," Harry said, smiling up at Snape.

"While you have become a much more proficient brewer, my little protégé, you unfortunately haven't the instinct required of a true master."

Harry stuck his bottom lip out in a fake pout. "And I was really looking forward to working alongside you."

Snape ran a thumb over that protruding lip. "As much as I have come to enjoy your company, that scenario sounds like a recipe for disaster."

Harry grabbed hold of Snape's hand and closed his teeth around the caressing thumb. He bit down gently, then released the other man's hand. Snape stared down at him, his gaze heated. "Minx," he growled.

Harry smiled coyly. "Do you find me irresistible yet?

Snape chuckled. "You should be afraid of the day I can no longer resist your many charms, Mr. Potter," he warned. "Now, we should get back on topic. Were we finished discussing your summer?"

"No, not really. I wanted to tell you about when we went to Diagon Alley. We saw Draco and Narcissa there while we were in Madam Malkin's. You know, I know Narcissa didn't rat me out to Voldemort, but she really is a bitch. She called us scum! Right to our faces! She threatened me, then they stormed out of the shop. Arrogant pricks, all three of them! But then, a little later, we spotted Draco by himself, acting suspiciously. He slunk into Knockturn Alley and went into Borgin and Burkes."

"And you know this how?"

"Because we followed him."

"Of course you did. And what did Mr. Malfoy do while in Borgin and Burkes?"

"He was talking to Borgin about fixing something. We had no idea at the time what it was, but course it was the vanishing cabinet. He threatened Borgin with setting Greyback on him if he told anyone about it. That was the day I became convinced that Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark. No one believed me, but I was right."

Severus sighed. "Yes, you were right. Parental pressure was too much for him."

"He wanted it," Harry said with a snort. "He liked that he could wield that sort of power over others. It's just the way he is."

Severus knew he'd never convince the young man that Draco had been in as much of a difficult situation as everyone else had been. He'd tried hard to keep the young Malfoy scion from irrevocably altering his life, but Draco's fear of disappointing his parents and the even more immediate fear that his parents would be killed for his rejecting the expectation that he would join his father in Voldemort's ranks, had made his decisions for him. But even Snape, who had somewhat liked the youngest Malfoy, had to admit the Draco had the type of personality that would enjoy certain aspects of having the Mark.

"There is still time for the younger Mr. Malfoy to make something of himself. Time will tell whether he does."

"Yeah, like a mad bloke who goes around poisoning people with lust potions," Harry said with a sigh, settling against Snape. The fact that they'd never been able to pin that particular crime on Malfoy still irked him. "You sound like you actually like him."

"I have known him for a very long time. He has many character traits that are admirable, but I do realize that he has his faults as well."

Snape stretched his arms over his head, ostensibly working out kinks in his muscles. When he put them back down, one of them dropped over Harry's shoulders. Harry smiled at the obviousness of the move, but moved in a bit closer anyway. "Are we done talking?" he asked.

"For now. I thought we might just . . . sit."

"I'd like that," Harry said.

**##########**

"Where we were?" Severus asked.

"We'd just finished talking about the summer before my sixth year."

"Ah yes."

"Although I forgot to tell you about the train ride back. Slughorn invited me to lunch. _That _was boring! After the lunch, I was heading back to find my friends and I saw Draco. I thought it would be a good idea to get under my cloak and follow him – hopefully I'd hear something about what he was planning."

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, his disapproval of this plan obvious. "And did you?"

"No. He bragged kind of vaguely to the other Slytherins about how important he was, and he said he wouldn't be returning to school next year. But apparently I'm not a very good spy – he knew I was there. He cast petrificus on me and stomped on my face. Broke my nose."

"I remember that you showed up late, with blood all over your face."

"He left me frozen, covered with my cloak. He apparently thought that no one would find me until the train got back to London. But Tonks came poking around and rescued me. She brought me up to the castle and turned me over to you."

Neither man spoke, remembering the vitriol that Snape had directed at Harry on their way back up to the castle.

"And to top off the wonderful night I was having, Dumbledore announced at dinner that _you_ would be teaching Defense."

"No, I don't imagine that would have improved your mood at all," Snape chuckled. "And you certainly didn't waste any time getting detention, did you?"

"You were such a prick!" Harry said with a big grin. "I figured you'd missed me over the summer and just couldn't wait to spend more time with me, so I obliged you."

Snape's answering grin was slightly evil. "It was far too easy to provoke you."

"You do have a gift," Harry admitted. "So you ruined Defense for me. But I began to enjoy Potions a great deal more. Brewed a perfect potion my first day," he said with fake pomposity.

"And we both know why that was, don't we?" Snape asked.

"Mmm," Harry readily admitted. "Your book. Earned me a bottle of Felix Felicis."

"Horace told us. Loudly. And repeatedly. And you managed to worm your way out of my detention."

"I didn't _worm _out of it. I only got it postponed. And that was Dumbledore's fault, not mine." Harry was quiet for a moment. "How much did he tell you about what we learned in the pensieve?"

"Next to nothing." It was clear that this fact troubled Snape.

"Well, I don't mind sharing," Harry told him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting the memory of his first lesson with Dumbledore flow through him. "The first memory belonged to some bloke named Ogden. He worked for the Ministry. In the course of his duties, he visited a place called Little Hangleton. He first met a young man named Morfin Gaunt. Name ring a bell?"

"No."

"Morfin lived with his father Marvolo and his sister Merope in a rundown little shack. Well, calling it 'rundown' is sort of an insult to rundown shacks everywhere. The Gaunts were descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and they all spoke parseltongue. Dumbledore couldn't understand some of what they were saying in the memory, and neither could Ogden. Ogden was there because Morfin had hexed a Muggle in the village. While he was there, some Muggles rode by the house on horses, and we discovered that Gaunt's daughter was enamored with the son of the local lord or whatever he was. That's who Morfin had hexed. Marvolo was irate with his daughter for sullying herself and the family name by daring to have such thoughts about a Muggle. I thought he was going to strangle her right there. Ogden hexed him, and then Morfin went after Ogden, and Ogden high-tailed it out of there. That was the end of the memory." Harry opened his eyes and looked at Snape. "The Muggle was Tom Riddle, Senior."

Snape raised both eyebrows in shock.

"Yeah. Dumbledore told me after we got out of the pensieve that Ogden returned with reinforcements. Morfin and Marvolo tried to fight but they were outnumbered. Morfin had hexed Muggles before, and was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo got six months. While they were both in prison, Merope used a love potion on Riddle, and they ran off together. A few months later, Riddle returned without Merope. He'd left her while she was pregnant. Dumbledore believes that she stopped giving him the love potion, thinking he'd stay on his own, for the baby if for no other reason. Obviously, he did not. She died in childbirth, I think. And little Tom Riddle was raised in an orphanage. That was all he showed me that first time in the pensieve."

"And that visit with the Headmaster allowed you to postpone your detention with me."

"Yes, and did I ever thank you for that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Slughorn invited me to his room for a little _get-together_," Harry said with a disdainful shudder. "I couldn't go because I had detention with you."

"Ah, yes. I recall Horace asking me to let you out of that detention. Like _that_ was going to happen! You'd already weaseled out of it once."

"Honestly, I'd rather have had detention with you than attend one of his stupid functions."

"I had no idea you enjoyed eviscerating flobberworms that much, Mr. Potter. I believe I have a barrel full of them just waiting for you."

"No, thanks. I'd rather just spend the time with you now," Harry said shyly.

"Even though Horace was singing your praises to everyone who would listen?" Snape teased.

"He was a blowhard. And we both know where I was getting all my new-found knowledge."

"My book."

"Your book. Why did you write spells in there?"

"Why were you foolish enough to try spells that you were unfamiliar with? At least it was just the one."

Harry looked away, and Snape could tell from his sheepish expression that he'd miscalculated. "Do tell."

"I used Levicorpus on Ron. By mistake. We were in our beds, and I saw the spell in the book, so I flicked my wand and thought the incantation, and suddenly, Ron was dangling upside down."

"Harry," Snape said sternly. "Can you imagine what would have happened if you'd used the other spell."

Harry knew that by "other spell," Snape meant Sectumsempra, and he hung his head in remembered shame at how he'd hurt Draco. Had he used that spell unknowingly on Ron, Snape would not have been nearby to administer the healing charm, and Ron would have died. Because Harry did things without thinking them through. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself.

Snape put a comforting around the young man's shoulders. "It is in the past, Harry. I like to think that you learned a lesson."

"Oh yes," Harry assured him. "I sure did. And even if you don't believe it, I was _really_ sorry about what I did to Malfoy. I never meant to hurt him like that."

"I do believe you now. Then, however . . . I knew that you suspected him of nefarious activities."

"He cursed Katie Bell!"

"He did," Snape agreed. "He was reluctant to accept my help. He felt his family was threatened by my place in the Dark Lord's circle. He was determined to salvage his family honor single-handedly. He was operating under a great amount of stress."

"Weren't we all," Harry said dryly. "No offense, but I don't want to spend my time with you talking about Malfoy."

Snape smiled in agreement. "You are right. What _would _you like to talk about?"

"Well, I could tell you about my second trip into the pensieve with Dumbledore."

"I would like to hear that, yes."

"Okay. Let's see," Harry said, thinking back. "Well, first Dumbledore told me that after Tom Riddle, Senior, left Merope pregnant, she went to Borgin and Burkes and sold the locket to them. She was desperate for money because of the situation she was in. Burkes took great advantage of her, but she was hardly in a position to complain. Then Dumbledore took me into his memory of the first time he met Tom Riddle. _The_ Tom Riddle. He was eleven years old and it was time for Hogwarts. He was in a muggle orphanage, so instead of getting a letter, Riddle got a visit. Dumbledore spoke to the lady that ran the orphanage. She said that Merope had showed up at their door on New Year's Eve. They brought her in, she had the baby, and he died an hour later.

"Before she died, she told them she wanted the baby named Tom Marvolo Riddle, and they honored her request. The orphanage lady told Dumbledore that Riddle scared the other children with his odd behavior. He frightened some of them so badly they were never the same. She didn't know specifics, just that odd things had happened to children who had angered Riddle or who had been around him unsupervised.

"So Dumbledore went to Riddle's room to see him. He was handsome, even then. He thought Dumbledore was a doctor, a psychiatrist or something. Dumbledore told Riddle that he was a wizard. Riddle wanted him to prove it, so Dumbledore set his wardrobe on fire. Riddle said he'd always known that he was special. Apparently he was a thief, because he had things in his wardrobe that didn't belong to him. Dumbledore told him that he must return the items to their owners and told him that that type of behavior wouldn't be tolerated at Hogwarts. Dumbledore offered to take Riddle to Diagon Alley to get his school things, but Riddle refused him, said he didn't need help. Can you imagine? He'd just found out he was a wizard, he had no idea how to get around in that world, but he wanted no help at all. He was eleven! I would have been lost without Hagrid.

"Riddle asked about his parents, but Dumbledore didn't know anything about them then. Riddle thought his father must be a wizard, because his mother never would have died had she been one. Then Riddle told him he could talk to snakes. Dumbledore kind of downplayed just how rare an ability that was. And that was it. Dumbledore left him there. I asked him afterwards if he'd known that the boy he'd just met was going to turn out like he did. He said he didn't."

"What do you think he would have done? Had he known?" Snape asked, curious.

"I don't know. What could you do? He was eleven. It's not like you're going to kill him or toss him in Azkaban for crimes that you _think _he might commit. But if you knew, _really knew_, that someone was going to turn out as evil as that, you'd almost have an obligation to do the unthinkable, wouldn't you?" Harry twisted his neck to look up at Snape.

"Not a decision I'd want to have to make," Snape admitted.

"Mmm. Me, either. He sure didn't have the best start in life, did he? A mother who tricked his father into getting her pregnant and marrying her. A father that left his mother before he was born and never cared enough to even look for his son. Mental illness in his mother's family. Growing up in an orphanage, unloved and always different from the other children."

"Do you think that excuses his behavior?"

"Definitely not. I didn't have the greatest childhood. No one loved _me_, either. But I didn't turn into a sadistic sociopath. You didn't have the most stable of childhoods. _You_ didn't turn into a . . . well, you're not a sociopath," Harry grinned.

"Are you calling me a sadist?"

"If the shoe fits . . ."

Snape tightened his arm around Harry's neck, pulling him close as he squeezed the boy into a noose. "Aaargh!" Harry squirmed in the grip until he was nearly lying on top of his professor. Snape looked up at him and said, "Mr. Potter, this is more than a little inappropriate." But he didn't move himself, and he made no move to push the young man off of him.

"Is it?" Harry murmured. "So I shouldn't kiss you, then?"

"No, you most certainly should not," Snape said just before his lips landed on Harry's.

The kiss was brief, much too brief for Harry's liking, but still he didn't move when it was over.

"Mr. Potter . . . Harry . . ."

"Don't say it. I know." Harry rolled off and sat a respectable distance away. "Sorry. Got carried away."

"Hmm. Perhaps we should discuss Quidditch. My journal indicates that the Gryffindor-Slytherin match was played around that time."

"Oh yes. The Felix Felicis game!"

"You took Felix Felicis before the match?!" Snape asked, appalled. "That is completely against the rules!"

Harry snickered at his outrage. "Of course I didn't. I gave it to Ron."

"What?! Weasley imbibed an illegal substance prior to a game?"

"Calm down," Harry said, still smiling. "No one did anything illegal. Ron _thought_ I had put the liquid luck in his pumpkin juice. Just thinking he was under its effects was enough to give him the confidence he needed to play really well."

"I remember that game," Snape muttered darkly. "Weasley did appear surprisingly competent."

"Well, I promise you, he wasn't under the influence of any substances, magical or otherwise."

"Wasn't that around the time that Mr. Weasley took up with Miss Brown?"

"What? You don't have _that_ written down in your magical little book?"

"Hardly," Snape said, his tone dry. "It was just . . . surprising when the two of them started going round together. I had thought that Mr. Weasley was mad for Miss Granger, even then."

"He was," Harry confirmed. "Lavender was just . . . a distraction." Harry paused for a moment. "That was also when I started to think that I had feelings for Ginny Weasley."

"You do know that you would be much better served to shower your attention and your affection on Miss Weasley, or really anyone other than me, don't you?"

"I know what I want," Harry said firmly. "And it's not Ginny Weasley. It's not any girl, really. I've been giving that a lot of thought, believe me."

"And you've come to the conclusion that you are of the homosexual persuasion?"

Harry turned so that he could see Snape again, and his eyes trailed down Snape's body and back up again. "Oh, I am _so_ gay, sir. And there's only one thing I want now."

Harry enjoyed the pink tinge that suffused Severus' cheeks at this. "I think we had best leave discussion of what you want for a few weeks from now."

"Can't wait."

Snape sighed. "You probably should be going. It is getting rather late."

"Just a little longer," Harry pleaded. "I feel like we're running out of time to get this all done before . . . before I finish school."

"All right," Snape gave in. He gave in to Harry so easily these days. " But just a little longer. Not all of us have the luxury of your schedule, young man."

"So where were we?"

"I believe we are nearly to Christmas."

"Slughorn's party. You were there. I was surprised."

"I was there purely in a chaperone capacity, I assure you."

"And then Draco showed up. And you dragged him out. I followed you."

"You did what?"

"I had my cloak with me, and I followed you. I heard you trying to convince Draco to let you help him, and him telling you that he could handle it. I heard you tell him that you'd made an Unbreakable Vow with his mother. I didn't know what that meant, back then. I was really surprised by his attitude with you. I always thought he liked you, respected you. But the way he was talking to you . . ."

"Draco was under a great deal of pressure," Snape said softly.

"Yeah, you've said. But I'd suspected him of being up to something for so long, and I finally had proof that I was on the right track. Well, I didn't know _what _he was up to, but I knew that he was involved in something. I was quite surprised that even you didn't know what it was."

"Well, I knew what his task was. What I didn't know was how he planned on going about it. His first attempt was horribly bungled. I thought that if he would just confide in me, I would keep the collateral damage to a minimum. He was too afraid, too stubborn, too proud to let me help him."

Harry sighed. Draco Malfoy was as fucked up as everyone else, he guessed. He'd never like the arrogant git, but he had matured enough that he _could _see the impossible situation his nemesis had found himself in. A yawn crept up on him out of nowhere. "Suddenly, I find I'm very tired."

"You are taking your Transfiguration NEWT soon?"

"Yeah, on the thirtieth."

"You are ready?"

"I think so."

"You think so? Or you know so?"

"I know so," Harry corrected. And he did feel quite confident that he would do well. "Then I'll just have Potions left."

"Yes, and you are rapidly approaching readiness in that area as well."

Harry sat up worriedly. "But not until we're finished here, right? We still have so much to talk about."

"Do not agitate yourself," Snape said soothingly. "We will talk until there is nothing left to say."

"That'll never happen," said Harry with a happy grin.

"Perhaps, but for tonight . . . you should get back to your room so this old man can get some rest."

"Old man!" Harry snorted, getting to his feet. "I should be so lucky to be so fit when I get to be as old as you."

"You may not live to see nineteen if you don't get out that door," Snape said with mock sternness.

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a smile. "I'll see you soon?"

"You know you will."


	24. Chapter 24

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-four

Harry's trip into London to take his Transfiguration NEWT was enhanced by dinner with Hermione. They spent two hours catching up, but Hermione did most of the talking. Harry, of course, had been doing nothing but going to school, which was kind of boring to talk about, and spending time with Severus, and it was too soon to talk about that, though Harry desperately wanted to. But he'd missed Hermione so completely, he was happy to sit at the table with her, listening to her and just looking his fill.

"How did your examination go yesterday?" Snape asked after they'd settled into their usual places.

"It was good," Harry said after swallowing down a mouthful of his favorite biscuits. "I think I did really well. And I got to see Hermione. That was good."

"And how is Miss Granger?"

"She's doing well. She talked non-stop for two hours. It was good. I missed her."

"Will you see her more once you leave here?"

"I don't know. I guess that depends on where _we_ are when I leave here."

"That will sort itself out in time, I suspect. I believe we had worked our way through Christmas when last we met."

"Oh, but I didn't tell you what happened on Christmas Day at the Burrow," Harry said. He'd remembered his encounter with the Minister the day after speaking with Severus last, and he'd made a mental note to himself to mention this. "Scrimgeour showed up there with Percy. Percy had been feuding with his family at the time, remember? Molly was so excited when he showed up, but he was only there to get Scrimgeour inside."

"And what did the Minister want?"

"He wanted to question me about Dumbledore – what he'd been up to, where he'd been going when he left the school. He asked me for my support. He said if I publicly supported the Ministry, it would go a long ways towards boosting people's morale. I told him to take a jump. I wasn't going to be anyone's poster boy. He was quite angry with me when he left. I feel kind of bad about the way I spoke to him, considering that he . . . that he died without revealing my location."

"He was a politician, Harry. Image over substance. But he died honorably. Would that we could all do the same."

"Yeah," Harry agreed with a sad sigh. "And when we got back from break, I had another session with Dumbledore in the pensieve."

"And what did you learn that time?"

"Well, after I tried to convince Dumbledore that you and Malfoy were up to something, he told me that Tom Riddle had gone looking for his mother's family. He found Morfin in the old house. Marvolo had died, and Morfin was living in the disgusting hovel by himself. At first, Morfin thought that Voldemort was his father, Riddle's father, I mean, but then Voldemort spoke in parseltongue. Morfin said he how much he looked like 'that Muggle' from the village, and Voldemort realized that the Muggle must be his father. That was all that Morfin remembered – Voldemort hexed him and he didn't wake up until the next day.

"Also the next day, the little village that Voldemort's Muggle father lived in woke up to the discovery of three bodies in the big house. He'd killed his father and his grandparents. The Ministry assumed that it was Morfin, so they went to question him. He confessed. Tests proved that his wand had done the deed. He went to Azkaban and died there."

"He killed all of his remaining family?"

Harry nodded. "Voldemort? Yes. Well, he didn't kill Morfin outright, but he might as well have. And then we watched a memory of Slughorn's, from when he taught here earlier. Riddle asked him about horcruxes. In the memory we watched, Slughorn told him that he wouldn't tell him anything about such a horrible thing and kicked him out of his office. But the memory was strange, not like any other memory I'd ever seen. Dumbledore told me that Slughorn had altered the memory, and that it was my job to get the original one out of him. He didn't tell me how I was supposed to do that, just sent me on my way and wished me luck.

"Well, at least your experience in Potions class assisted you when Mr. Weasley ingested the poison," Snape offered.

"Yeah," Harry said. "That was one of the scariest moments of my life. I thought Ron was doing to die. If Slughorn hadn't had a bezoar on hand . . ."

"Explain something to me, if you can."

"Okay."

"While you were saving Mr. Weasley's life, what was Slughorn doing?"

"He just . . . stood there. He seemed to be in shock."

"Well, thank Merlin you had your head about you, then."

"I'd like to take credit, but it was you. All you. Your note in the book, and your telling us about bezoars in my very first Potions class."

"Remember that, do you?"

"'Course I do. Hard to forget a random stranger who so completely loathes you for no apparent reason. I was used to people loathing me, but they at least knew me and had a reason. You, on the other hand . . ."

"No one who truly knows you could hate you."

"Yeah, you say that _now_."

Snape pulled Harry closer and kissed the top of his head.

"Wasn't that around the time you and Dumbledore had that argument?"

"Which one?" Snape asked wryly. "The Headmaster and I argued many times."

"Hagrid overheard you arguing in the forest. He told us. You were telling the Headmaster that you didn't want to kill him. You put the memory in the pensieve for me."

Snape sighed. "Yes, Albus and I had that particular argument more than once. I was not aware that Hagrid was anywhere nearby. But it does not surprise me that he shared the information with you. Discretion is not his strong suit."

"Hey, Hagrid's one of the nicest blokes I know!"

"I did not say he was not _nice,"_ Snape said. "I only said that he was not discrete."

"That's true," Harry conceded. "But he was my very first friend, so I'll always have a soft spot for him."

"You have a soft spot in your head," Snape teased. "Maybe the result of too many bludgers to the head."

"Fucking McLaggen," Harry spit. He immediately turned bright red. "Sorry, sir. But that bloke just annoyed the daylights out of me! But one good thing did come out of that. While I was laying there in the hospital wing, I had the idea to set Kreacher and Dobby on Malfoy. I told them to follow him around and report his movements to me."

Snape shook his head. "You are incapable of letting anything go, aren't you?"

"Said the cauldron to the kettle."

"Touche."

"So I failed at getting the memory," Harry continued his earlier thread. "And Dumbledore made me feel like crap about it, but you know, what was I supposed to do, really? Slughorn was an adult, an accomplished wizard. How exactly was I supposed to force him to give up a memory he'd been working so hard to repress for years?"

"But you did convince him, in the end."

"Yes, but we're getting ahead of ourselves. Before that happened, Dumbledore and I reviewed more memories. In one of them, Riddle visited this old lady who collected things. Voldemort was working for Borgin and Burkes at the time. Through his job, he found out that this old lady had Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's locket. Two days after he visited her, she died under mysterious circumstances, and those items turned up missing. Her house elf was convicted of killing her. Voldemort resigned from his job and disappeared. Apparently no one heard from him for ten years. And then the Headmaster showed me his memory of a visit that Riddle paid to him, here. He came inquiring about the Defense job. He'd wanted it right out of school, but the headmaster then told him he was too young. Dumbledore, of course, turned him down, too. Apparently that's when the curse on the position originated.

"And _then _I got the memory from Slughorn."

"Do tell."

"Felix Felicis. Remember, I'd won it in that potions class. So I took it, and I just sort of . . . knew what to do. Aragog had died, and I was on my way to see Hagrid . . ."

"Aragog? The pet acromantula?"

"Yeah. So I was on my way to Aragog's funeral, and I ran into Slughorn. Convinced him to go along with me. Though I think the idea of acromantula venom might have been more enticing. Anyway, we buried the spider, and Slughorn and Hagrid toasted his memory. Again and again. They got so pissed that Hagrid passed out. We got to talking about my parents and how they were killed. I told Slughorn I needed that memory. He was so ashamed of what he'd told Riddle, but I told him he could make it all even again by giving me the memory. And he did. I practically sprinted to Dumbledore's office. Slughorn had blocked out that Riddle was planning to actually make a horcrux, and worse yet, he was contemplating making more than one. Dumbledore told me that he thought Riddle had made six, and that the ring which he had destroyed and the diary that I destroyed in my second year were both horcruxes. He thought that Riddle had made horcruxes out of the cup and the locket that he stole from the old lady. He also thought that Nagini was a horcrux. He told me that night that he thought he knew where another horcrux was, and that I could go with him when he went to get it.

"Then he told me again that the power I had that Voldemort 'knew not' was love. Can you believe that?" Harry was still incredulous. "Love?!"

"I believe it," Snape said very seriously. "How could I not? I have seen it."

Harry smiled up at him. "But you can imagine how I felt when he told me that I was supposed to defeat the most evil wizard in our lifetime with _love._

"I can imagine that might be a daunting thought, yes. But you did it."

"Well, not _just_ with love. There was some magic involved as well."

Snape looked down into Harry's green eyes. "Sometimes, Mr. Potter, they are one and the same."


	25. Chapter 25

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-five

"Excuse me, Harry Potter?" a shy female voice asked. Harry, his head bent over a book in the library, had not heard her approach.

"Yes?"

"I have a message from the Headmistress. She'd like to see you."

"Did she say when?"

"Now."

"Oh. Thank you." Harry closed his book and stood up. He wondered what the Headmistress wanted. He'd received the results of his Transfiguration NEWT – he'd scored an Outstanding. He hadn't seen McGonagall since he'd received the result – perhaps she wanted to congratulate him?

He pondered what other possible reasons the Headmistress might have for summoning him on his walk to her office. He'd certainly not gotten into any trouble. He'd been a model student since returning for his eighth year, keeping mostly to himself, applying himself to his studies. He wasn't worried exactly, but it was difficult not to feel a certain sense of trepidation when summoned by one's Headmistress.

He was surprised when he found Severus already in McGonagall's office when he arrived. "Good evening," he greeted the Headmistress. Then he turned a bright smile on Snape. "Professor."

"Mr. Potter," Snape greeted him with a nod.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Harry," the Headmistress said. "I shall have the house elves send up tea."

She turned to the floo to take care of this, and Harry turned to Severus and mouthed, "What's going on?"

Severus' shrug was his only answer.

After the elves had served and they were all seated, McGonagall behind her desk and the two men in front of it, Severus asked, "Now perhaps you will tell us why you have asked us both here," as he set his cup down into the saucer.

"Yes," McGonagall said, fidgeting with her biscuit. "I have received a . . . complaint. About the two of you."

Harry and Severus exchanged a quick, surprised glance.

"Us?" Harry said. "What sort of complaint?"

"Well, the information I have been given implies that you have been engaging in a relationship that is . . . not appropriate for a student and a teacher."

Harry looked at Snape again. He suspected his eyebrows were just as high on his forehead as Snape's were. Harry was struck with an overwhelming urge to laugh out loud, which he suppressed with great effort.

"Headmistress, really," Snape said with dignity. "Perhaps if you tell me who has made these allegations, I can put your mind at ease regarding a likely motivation for these outrageous accusations."

"Are you saying they are untrue?"

Snape couldn't outright lie to her, not after all she had done for him, and he was stumped for a moment as to what to say.

Harry was not. "Headmistress," he piped up into the silence, unable to keep the amusement he felt out of his voice. "I think it's fairly obvious that Draco Malfoy is the one who has come to you. He has made his animosity toward me plain, though I have tried to mend fences with him or, failing that, to stay away from him as much as possible." He debated quickly telling McGonagall that he thought Malfoy had poisoned him earlier in the year, but held back. He had no proof, after all.

The Headmistress' answer was the slightest nod of her head in acknowledgment of the accuracy of his guess.

"I refuse to sit here and listen to unfounded allegations against my character . . ." Severus began, hoping to defray suspicion and end this uncomfortable conversation before it began. But again Potter interposed again, this time laying a hand on Severus' arm as he did so.

"Professor," he said quietly, looking at Snape. "Let me?"

Snape studied the boy's earnest expression for a moment. It was obvious to him that Potter intended to tell all to the Headmistress. Was he ready for this? Was he ready for anyone else to know what they had been doing, what they had planned for their lives? Did Harry really understand what he was doing by confessing his attachment to a much older, much less lovely man? In the end, all Snape could do was nod his agreement.

"As I believe you are aware," Harry began, turning his serious face to his Headmistress, "Severus and I have been meeting regularly in his office." McGonagall and Snape both raised an eyebrow at Harry's use of the first name. "We began doing this because I wanted to know more about my mother, and Severus was kind enough to agree to share his memories of her. We then discovered that we had a lot to talk about. We've been discussing our pasts, how they intertwined and intersected. We've been explaining why we did what we did. We've been talking a lot about Professor Dumbledore." Harry's eyes flicked to the Headmaster's portrait, empty at the moment.

"Over time, we've become . . . close. I'm eighteen, and there's no reason why we shouldn't explore this if we want to. It's no one's business but ours. If anyone thinks that Severus is taking it easy on me in potions, just because we're more than student/teacher, then they don't know him very well, and they haven't sat through one of our classes. But I assure you, Headmistress, that he has been nothing but professional during our time alone together. He has told me that he will not allow our relationship to progress into a more . . . physical one until I have left school completely. But you should know that as soon as I have taken my potions NEWT, we intend to explore what we have."

"Well, I certainly did not expect such honesty. It is refreshing, I must say. And in retrospect, it should not surprise me that you have found that you have so much in common. However, I would not be doing my job if I did not admonish you strongly that there should be no untoward behavior between the two of you whilst you are still a student here, Harry. Though it sounds like Severus has taken care of that already."

"You have my word, Headmistress, nothing inappropriate has happened, nor will it, until Mr. Potter leaves this institution," Severus lied only slightly.

"Thank you, Severus. That is good enough for me. Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all."

The two men rose to their feet and turned to make their way out. "Oh, and Mr. Potter?" the Headmistress said, stopping them both.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Congratulations on your NEWT. You have worked very hard, and I am proud that you have done so well."

Harry's cheeks turned a pleased shade of pink. "Thank you, Professor."

"Good night, gentlemen," she said, dismissing them.

"Was that wise?" Severus asked as they headed away from the Headmistress' office.

"I didn't want to lie," Harry said with a shrug. "We aren't doing anything wrong. I'm not ashamed for anyone to know. I'd tell the whole world if there wasn't a reason to remain discrete. You're not, are you? Ashamed?"

"Why would I be ashamed?" Severus asked. "I've got a young, attractive, powerful wizard somehow attracted to me. I feel lucky and amazed and proud. But not ashamed. Never ashamed."

"Are you angry that I told her?"

"I would have liked to discuss it first, but no, I am not angry. I feel somewhat relieved actually. Now, if I forget myself and kiss you, I feel as though we almost have her blessing."

"Hmm. Any chance of that actually happening?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Well certainly not here," Snape said as they reached the point where their paths would diverge. "That would hardly be discrete, now would it?"

Harry looked quickly around, then grabbed hold of Severus' arm and pulled him into an alcove. He pushed the taller man up against the wall, went up on his toes, and kissed those thin lips he spent so much time fantasizing about. Snape's arms stole around the young man's back and pulled him up against his body, relishing the boy's heat as he ravished that sumptuous mouth. The kiss went on for a long time, and when it finally ended, Harry's forehead thunked down onto Severus' breastbone as he fought to regain normal breathing.

"No, not discrete at all," Severus murmured, but not in protest. "You are a bad, bad boy, Mr. Potter."

"Not as bad as I'd like to be."

Snape decided it was time to end this, before it went further than either of them were prepared for. He pushed Harry gently away from him. "I am going to leave this alcove and return to my dungeon. You are going to wait sixty seconds and return to your room. We will meet as usual."

"All right," Harry agreed. "I'll be counting the moments."

Severus gave one last fondly exasperated look at the young man, then turned his back and strode away.

Harry chuckled to himself, counted to forty-five, and stepped back out into the hallway. Directly into the path of Draco Malfoy. Why did he keep _doing_ that?

"Watch it, Scarhead!" the blonde snarled.

"_You _watch it, Malfoy," Harry hissed in return. "I mean it. Stop interfering in my life."

The smirk that followed from his nemesis indicated just how much Draco enjoyed his attempt to make Potter miserable.

And Harry was more than happy to wipe it off his face. "It didn't work, by the way. Your little plan to get me expelled, or Severus fired. It's amazing how far the truth will take you."

The smirk was replaced by a sneer. "I should have known that _golden Harry Potter_ would suffer no consequences for his actions."

"What is it that you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, tired of this incredibly petty man and his machinations.

"I want what is MINE!" Draco said, taking a threatening step toward Harry.

Harry's wand was in his hand in less than a heartbeat. "Back off," he warned in a low growl.

But Draco stepped closer, close enough so that his mouth nearly touched Harry's ear when he whispered, "One of these days, Potter, you are going to get exactly what you deserve." And he whirled away and strutted off toward the staircase.

"If we all got what we deserved, we'd probably both be in Azkaban!" Harry called after his retreating figure. "And Severus is _not_ yours," he added, in a voice soft enough that only his own ears heard it.

**##########**

"So just be careful, all right?" Harry requested. He'd just finished telling Severus about his run-in with Draco Malfoy. "He's clearly hung up on you."

"I am not worried about Draco Malfoy," Severus assured him. "But he is the topic which we are now due to discuss, so let us move on, shall we?"

"I don't really want to talk about Draco Bloody Malfoy," Harry muttered petulantly.

"Yet we will. Sectumsempra. Ring any bells?"

"Like I'd ever forget. I know that you think that I wanted to hurt Malfoy, but I really had no idea what that spell did, and when he tried to crucio me, it just . . . came out. I felt horrid afterward. I'm so glad that you were there and you knew what to do, because if I'd killed him . . ."

"You were indeed lucky. You should have been expelled, you realize? Any other student would have been. Especially had he been a Slytherin."

"And I would have deserved it, but I suppose I couldn't have been allowed outside Dumbledore's sphere of influence. But you do believe me, right? I didn't mean for it to happen, and I was so, so sorry afterward."

"I think I have a little better understanding of you now, so yes, I do believe that you never intended to mortally wound Mr. Malfoy and that you did regret your actions. Not enough to actually return my book to me, but . . ."

"Sorry. I thought I might want that again some day."

"What did you do with it?"

"I hid it in the Room of Requirement. And it was a good thing I did, too, because it helped me to locate one of the horcruxes. But that's a story for later. Suffice it to say that detention with you for the remainder of the term was just the highlight of my sixth year."

"Yes. If I recall, you missed a Quidditch match."

"Yeah, I did. But we still won, so that was all right. And after the game, I kissed Ginny." Harry peered up at Severus to see how he took that news.

He took it with a single raised eyebrow. "Did you now?"

"Yeah. We were kind of swept up in the heat of the moment. There was a party in the common room after the victory, and she was there, and I was happy that they'd won despite my absence, and then – I kissed her."

"And how was that?" Snape inquired.

"It was better than Cho. But not as good as you," he added with a sly smile. After a moment, the smile dropped away. "Do you think maybe I could have one of those kisses now?" he asked. "Things are about to get . . . difficult."

Snape knew that they were approaching the tumultuous events that ended Harry's sixth year of schooling. He moved to sit close to the young man on the sofa, put an arm around his shoulders, and kissed him softly, briefly. When he pulled away, he brought Harry with him, and they settled side by side, Harry in the shelter of Severus' arm.

"Dumbledore summoned me," Harry went on quietly. "He had told me that he'd let me go with him when he discovered the location of the next horcrux, and he'd found one. On my way to his office, I ran into Trelawney. She was drunk. She was on her way to the headmaster as well, and we walked together. She told me that it was you that had overheard the prophecy and told Voldemort." Harry felt the arm around him tighten, and he hastened to reassure the older man. "It's all right. I know so much more now than I did then." And now the arm tightened in a wordless gesture of relief and gratitude.

"But of course then," he went on, "I was beside myself with rage. I confronted Dumbledore, who reiterated his complete faith and trust in you. I didn't believe a word he said, but I wanted to go with him so badly that I shoved all that emotion down and raced off to fetch my invisibility cloak. While I was in the common room, I left Ron and Hermione my map and the Felix Felicis I had left and told them to keep an eye on you and Malfoy. Dumbledore apparated with me to the seaside, at the mouth of a cave. It was cold and dark and bleak, just the sort of place I'd expect to find something connected with Voldemort."

Snape was listening intently. He'd never heard this part of the story. He'd killed Dumbledore before they'd had a chance to speak again.

"We had to pay to gain entrance," Harry went on. "With blood. Dumbledore's. Inside the cave, there was a big lake. Somehow, Dumbledore found a boat which was hidden there. It was really small and attuned to magic. Dumbledore said that because Voldemort placed no value on things he couldn't understand that my magic wouldn't register, because I wasn't a fully-grown wizard. So we both climbed into the boat and we began to sail across.

"We could see this little island and Dumbledore was sure that that was where the horcrux was. There was this . . . basin on the island, filled with water, and inside the water was the locket. Dumbledore did a bunch of spells on it and determined that we needed to drink the liquid in the basin. I wanted to do it, but he said . . . he said that he wasn't as valuable as I was, so he said he was going to drink it. He made me promise that no matter what happened, I was to force him to drink it all." Harry was quiet for a moment, remembering that awful night and how difficult it had been to keep that promise.

"After he'd had a bit of it, he started hallucinating. He begged me to make it stop. But I . . . I did what he said, and I made him keep drinking it. It was hurting him, but I made him drink it anyway." The young man looked so stricken that Severus pulled him closer. "Finally we got to the end, and he asked for water. I tried to aguamenti some water into a goblet, but it kept disappearing. So I tried to get some water out of the lake. As soon as I touched the water, inferi came out. They grabbed me. I tried to fight them off, but there were so many of them. They were dragging me into the water, and I was sure that I was going to die there." Harry turned his face into Snape's neck, searching for comfort from the horrifying memory of those skeletal hands on him.

Snape's hand came up to the back of the boy's head and stroked soothingly. "Take your time," he said.

"Then, suddenly, there was fire between us and the lake. The inferi didn't dare cross it. They dropped me. Dumbledore scooped up the locket and got us out of there.

"When we got back to Hogsmeade, Dumbledore could hardly stand. But then we saw the Dark Mark over Hogwarts. We borrowed brooms from Rosmerta and we flew to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore asked for you. I wanted to get Madame Pomfrey, but he insisted that he needed _you_. I was going to get you, but then we heard a noise, and he told me to cover myself with the Cloak and stay out of the way. He . . . he petrificused me, so I could do nothing but watch what happened next. It was Draco who came up first. Dumbledore tried to talk him out of what he was planning to do. It was obvious that Draco was afraid – for himself and for his family – if he didn't kill Dumbledore. And as sure as he was that he needed to do it, I don't think Draco had it in him to actually curse anyone. I think that Dumbledore had talked him down, but then the others showed up. Bellatrix was urging Draco to do it. And then you came."

Tears were running down Harry's cheeks, but he appeared heedless of them. "Dumbledore begged you. I thought he was begging you to somehow save him. But he wasn't. He was begging you to go through with it. I know that now. And you did it." Harry had to stop now, overcome by grief.

Afraid that Severus would push him away now, he threw his arms around the other man and held on tight. But rather than pushing him away, Severus gathered up the sobbing boy and held him close, running a soothing hand up and down Harry's back.

"I didn't want to," Snape said in a strangled whisper. "I didn't want to do it. I wanted there to be some other way. I wanted Albus never to have been cursed. I wanted Narcissa never to have come to me asking for help. I wanted to be anywhere but where I was that night. I suspected you were there. I didn't see you, so I hoped that perhaps you'd gone before . . . before we arrived."

"No," Harry sniffed. "I was stuck under the cloak. I wasn't able to move until . . . until after you'd done it."

"And you gave chase."

"Yeah. Fat lot of good that did me. You toyed with me. I was so totally outmatched. If you'd wanted to kill me that night, you could have done so easily. And as if that night wasn't bad enough as it was, we discovered that the horcrux we'd risked everything for was a fake. There was a note inside the locket saying that someone had stolen the real one with the intent to destroy it. It was signed 'RAB.' We didn't figure out for a while that it was Regulus that had stolen it."

Harry rested his head on Snape's shoulder and the two of them just sat there for a moment, getting themselves under control.

"After the funeral," Harry said quickly, to get this over with, "I broke up with Ginny. I told Ron and Hermione that I was not returning to school in the fall. They insisted they were going with me. And that was the end of sixth year."

"I would have liked to attend the funeral," Snape said in a tortured whisper. "I would have liked to pay my respects to the man who took me in and gave me a second chance after I'd screwed my life up so royally. I would have liked him to know . . ." Snape drew in a great, ragged breath, ". . . how much I appreciated that."

Harry's already grief-soaked heart broke clean in two at the sight of the tears coursing down the normally stoic man's face, and he gathered him in close, tucking Snape's head under his chin and stroking his long, dark hair as Snape gave vent to the emotion he'd kept pent up for so long.

"He knew," Harry whispered over and over. "He knew."

It was a long time before Snape could gather himself, and once he did, he found it very difficult to look at the young man sitting beside him. He'd never, in his long and angst-ridden life, lost control of himself like this before another person, and he was more than a little mortified. "I apologize," he said, pulling himself up and away from Harry. "I don't know what came over me."

"I do," Harry said. "You loved him, and you've never properly mourned his passing. Don't be embarrassed. Merlin knows I've cried on you enough. I am honored that you trust me enough to share this with me."

"Thank you. I hadn't realized how missing his funeral had affected me."

"I have an idea," Harry said. "I was there. I could show you. I could put the memory into a pensieve, or you could just look for it. I'd willingly let you."

"You would let me into your mind?" Snape asked surprised.

"You've been there enough," Harry joked weakly. "And this time you'll be looking for something I want you to see. Do you want to?"

"I would like that very much," Snape said, very softly and very sincerely.

Harry settled himself comfortably on the sofa, closed his eyes to call up the memory of Dumbledore's funeral, then opened his eyes again. "Go ahead," he invited.

Harry's memory began at the point Professor McGonagall had stood up in the Great Hall and announced that it was time for the students to proceed out onto the grounds. Harry allowed Snape to see all of the people who had gathered to pay their respects to the Great Albus Dumbledore – the dignitaries, the members of the Order, and the ordinary people whose ordinary lives had been touched by Dumbledore in some way. Together they saw the beasts that had also gathered – the centaurs in the forest, the merpeople in the lake.

Harry knew that Snape could feel his own grief as he watched Hagrid carry Dumbledore's body through the gathered throng, and he felt an echo which was just as strong from Snape. Harry wished he could have heard more of what the speakers were saying, but he'd just been too far away from the front. He hadn't cared to hear it then, but he thought perhaps Severus would be interested in it now. And then he felt it again: that hot, sick wash of grief as he seemed to realize all at once that the Headmaster was really and truly gone. He felt tears coursing from his eyes again and hoped they didn't interfere with Snape's legilimency.

And then the fire, and the appearance of the marble tomb, and the funeral was over. Snape pulled out of Harry's mind as Harry began the very difficult task of ending his relationship with Ginny.

Snape slumped against Harry, and Harry put his arms around him comfortingly. Together, they cried for the man they'd loved and who had loved them, until they dropped off to sleep in each other's arms.


	26. Chapter 26

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-six

After their last meeting's emotional ending, it was almost a relief to move on to talk of Voldemort and horcruxes and well-laid plans that went badly awry.

"I told Voldermort of the Order's plan to move you prior to your birthday," Snape confessed.

"I know. You showed me in your memories."

"I moved up several places in Voldemort's regard with that information," Snape remembered. "Time after time, the information I provided proved itself, and information others brought in was based on rumor and speculation, often started by myself. Dumbledore planned it this way, continued to plan it even after his death. The meeting where we discussed your move from Privet Drive was especially memorable." Snape paused for a long moment, and Harry knew that what he was about to hear had to be especially awful if it made this stoic and hardened man pause.

"We discussed how we could take you while you were being moved. The Dark Lord talked about his wand, and how it was a twin to your own and did not work properly against you. He took Lucius' wand. He had delighted in humiliating Lucius and terrorizing the entire Malfoy family. Lucius had been in his doghouse since being captured in the Ministry, and the tale of Draco's failure to kill the Headmaster had certainly reached his ears. And then . . . then he introduced us to his guest."

Again there was an awful silence, weighted heavily with horror.

"Charity Burbage had been suspended, upside down, over the table. She'd been targeted because she was the Muggle studies teacher. She . . . she recognized me. She begged me, pleaded with me to help her. And I just . . . sat there. Then he killed her, and he gave her to Nagini."

Harry wanted so badly to take away the pain and the memory of everything that Severus had had to endure in his life. He'd seen and done so many horrible, horrible things that Harry frankly didn't know how he was able to get up every morning and carry on. He reached over and took Severus' hand into both of his. "There was nothing you could have done," he said firmly. "You know that. You know what would have happened if you'd tried to interfere."

"I know," Snape whispered. "But that does not keep the nightmares away. It was _me_ she looked to, as the only friendly face in a roomful of hate. _Me_ she begged to save her. _Me _who sat and watched a colleague lose her dignity and her life to a cause she'd never been able to comprehend." Snape shuddered in horror that was as fresh today as it had been then.

"Would you like to call it a night?" Harry offered solicitously.

Snape made a visible effort to get himself back under control. "No. No. I am fine. You were just about to tell me about your flight from Privet Drive."

"Yes," Harry said, glad to move on and give Snape something else to think about. "Moody and the others arrived with this outrageous plan to have six of them polyjuice into me. A plan I can apparently thank the Headmaster for as well." Snape nodded in acknowledgment of the truth of that statement. "I protested. In vain, of course. They all drank the polyjuice, and suddenly there were seven of me in the room."

Snape's shudder this time was comically exaggerated. "Oh, the thought of such of thing!"

Harry elbowed Snape gently in the ribs. "Hush, you. We were all assigned to brooms or thestrals, or in my case, to the motorbike with Hagrid. As soon as we took off, there they were. Death Eaters. You. Surrounding us and firing hexes at us. We all got separated. The plan was that everyone would go to a different safe house anyway, but it was frightening to see everyone scattered that way. I almost immediately lost Hedwig. Her cage fell out of the car and someone hexed her in the air." Harry had to stop for a moment, upset himself now at the remembered senselessness of his dear friend's death. "I should have sent her on to the Burrow ahead of me," he choked out. "Or just set her free. She didn't deserve to die that way. She hadn't done anything to anyone. Just another casualty of being too close to me." Harry drew in a great shuddering breath and mopped at his eyes with his sleeve. He felt Snape's comforting arm around his shoulder and drew strength from the other man. After what Snape had been through, it was ridiculous to feel so distraught about an owl. Still, she'd been an excellent owl.

"So you know what happened, I expect," he continued. "We fought in the air all the way to the Tonks' house. Mundungus Fletcher surprised no one by abandoning Moody, and he was killed. You hexed George's ear off."

"It was that or see Remus Lupin killed," Snape said.

"I know. Now. I didn't know it then. Hagrid and I crash landed in the Tonks' pond. I thought for a moment he was dead, too. Thank God he's so indestructible. We made our way back to the Burrow and just waited for everyone else to show up. It was one of the worst nights of my life."

"I'll never forget," Snape said, "waiting for you just outside the wards that night, waiting for the wards to fall once you left. I wasn't sure, of course, which of the Potters was you. Almost everyone assumed you'd be on a broomstick. Your prowess was widely known, even amongst the Death Eaters. I wasn't privy to the information regarding who you'd be traveling with or how, so it was difficult to know who to stick close to. It was my intention to figure out who you were right away and then stick to you like glue to make sure that no one got close enough to actually do you harm. But in the chaos, it was impossible to tell which was you."

"In the end, I gave myself away."

At Snape's puzzled look, Harry said, "No one told you?"

"No. I never did learn how Voldemort was able to identify you. It was a minor fact in the aftermath of our failed attempt to capture you."

"I saw Stan Shunpike. You know Stan . . . from the Knight Bus? I knew that he was under imperius, and I couldn't bring myself to hex him. If I had, he would have fallen to his death. Remus and I actually argued about it afterward. He said we were at war, and we had to do whatever was necessary to stay alive. I said that if we just killed people for being in the way, then we were no better than the evil we were fighting. Anyway, I used expelliarmus on him, and that apparently tipped the Death Eaters off to who I was. Remus said that had become my _signature move_ or something stupid like that.

"In any event, Voldemort appeared. Flying. I was basically just holding on for dear life, and I swear to God that my wand acted by itself and cursed Voldemort. There was a button on the bike for dragon fire, and I pushed it, and we crossed through the wards around the Tonks house just in time."

"Thank Merlin," Snape said. "There were so many ways in which that plan could go awry. It is quite frankly a miracle that the price the Order paid wasn't greater than it was."

"It was enough."

"Voldemort was very angry. Each of us that was there shared a piece of his displeasure."

It was difficult to feel sympathy for the Death Eaters who'd been punished, even if Snape was one of them. Moody had died. George had lost an ear. Harry had lost his familiar. They deserved what they got. He was smart enough not to give voice to that opinion.

"So we spent the next week at the Burrow, trying to plan for what was coming around Molly's attempts to keep us there. Hermione told us how she'd obliviated her parents so that they didn't remember her, and she sent them off to Australia. Ron had planned with his father that they'd dress the ghoul in the attic up and tell everyone that Ron had spattergroit.

"At some point, Scrimgeour came and gave us bequests from Dumbledore's will. He left Hermione a book of children's fairy tales. He gave Ron his deluminator, and he left me the golden snitch I'd caught in my very first quidditch match. All of these things would prove to be invaluable, but I'll explain more about them as we get further into the story."

"I myself had a bequest from Dumbledore," Snape told him.

"Oh?'

"Yes. He bequeathed to me his family's seaside cottage in Wales. Of course, the Ministry withheld it from me until they were assured of my place in events surrounding the Headmaster's death and the occupation of Hogwarts." Snape paused, gathering his courage. "I plan to spend the summer there. Perhaps you would . . . like to join me. At least for a time?"

Harry smiled. "I'd like that a lot."

"Where were we?" Snape asked, obviously pleased by Harry's acceptance of his invitation.

"Um . . . probably the wedding. Bill and Fleur's. After the ceremony was over, Kingsley sent his patronus to tell us that the Ministry had fallen, that Scrimgeour was dead, and that Death Eaters were on their way. Well, you can imagine how that went over. Pandemonium. Panic. Hermione . . . incredible Hermione. She'd already packed our stuff, without us even knowing it, in this little beaded handbag she had. She'd put an extendable charm on it, and she had everything in there but the kitchen sink. She apparated the three of us out of there and into London."

"London? Why London?"

"She thought we'd be safer amidst the Muggles. And it wasn't like she had a lot of time to think about it. We weren't planning on leaving the Burrow until the day after the wedding, so we hadn't thought about where we were going to start out. So anyway, we end up on this busy street. We go into this café, to gather our wits and figure out what to do next. We're all worried about what's happening back at the Burrow, of course, wondering if everyone's all right, hoping that the members of the Order who were there were able to protect everyone. We're sitting there talking, and suddenly there are two Death Eaters there."

"Death Eaters?" Snape parroted. "Which ones?"

"Rowle and Dolohov."

"How did they find you?"

"Well, at the time, we didn't know, but one of us, me most likely, had said Voldemort's name. We didn't know about the jinx, of course. So there they are. We duel in this little diner. I stunned one of them; Hermione got the other. So then we have to decide what we're going to do with them. We ended up obliviating them, figuring that it was better if they didn't remember running into us at all."

"Did you cast the spell?"

"No. That was Hermione. Anything smart or magically impressive was done by Hermione," Harry said with a smile. "So then we had to decide where to go. I talked them into going to Grimmauld Place. We knew there was a possibility that _you _could get in there, but I thought it was worth the risk. Frankly, I would have welcomed the opportunity, or so I thought, to confront you. Of course, you likely would have kicked my arse again, but I was still so full of hatred and a desire for revenge . . . Anyway, we went there, we met Moody's little apparition, and we set up housekeeping there for the rest of the summer.

"My first night there, I had a vision. Through my scar, you know, my link with Voldemort? I saw him with Rowle. He was . . . forcing Draco to torture him. He was angry. I'm not sure how he knew about us getting away from him and Dolohov, but he clearly did. And he was making Draco do it. Draco looked so afraid. That was the first time I felt sorry for him. It was clear that he'd not expected it to be like that."

"Yes, Draco was disillusioned very early on. A Death Eater with a conscience is a rare thing."

"But he had you to look to," Harry said sincerely.

"I was very little help to Draco, I am sorry to admit. I had my own problems to contend with."

"You know what? I don't really want to talk about Draco. My feeling sorry for him evaporated when he tried to poison you."

"Well, I think we've had enough for one night in any event. Are you ready to return to your room, or would you like to sit here a bit and just stare at the fire with me?"

"Staring at the fire sounds wonderful," Harry said with a warm smile, and they settled in to do just that.

**##########**

"So we'd just found our way to Grimmauld Place, I think, when last we talked. I searched the place the first day we were there, and I found that letter that Mum had written to Sirius. You know, the one you took the page from. And the photograph that you tore in half."

"I thought we might be talking about that tonight," Snape said, rather self-consciously. "So I brought this." He slid the half-picture across the table toward Harry.

Harry picked it up. It was his mother, laughing. He caught the end of a small broomstick as it zoomed through the missing half of the picture. Harry called for Kreacher and requested transport back to his room. Moments later, he reappeared in Snape's room with the half of the photograph he'd kept with his most treasured possessions. One quick reparo, and it was whole again, and Harry stared at his family, happy once upon a time.

"I apologize for taking it," Snape offered. "I had no right."

"Don't," Harry said. "I understand. I'm just glad to have it back. I could make you a copy of the half that has my mum in it."

"Make me a copy of the entire picture, if you would," Snape requested. "I've become rather fond of the little creature zooming through the photograph as well."

Harry did as requested and handed the photograph over. "Thank you," Severus said sincerely.

"You're welcome," Harry said, pleased. "Anyway, it was then that we figured out who RAB was, too. You know, the mysterious RAB who took the real locket? It was Regulus, Sirius' brother. Did you know him?"

"I did. Of course I did. We were at school together, though he was, I believe, two years behind me. And he was a Death Eater as well, so we knew each other in a limited capacity that way. His membership had only just begun really when he disappeared."

"Well now we know where he went. He went after the locket and died in the attempt. Hermione remembered that she'd seen a locket in fifth year, when we first moved into Grimmauld Place. Kreacher had been taking stuff left and right, muttering about how we were defiling the place and the precious heirlooms of the Black family. So we checked in his little cupboard that he slept in. He wasn't there, but I called him, and he told us that Mundungus Fletcher had stolen the locket. He took a lot of stuff that belonged to Sirius," Harry remembered with a pang in his heart.

"I told Kreacher to find Fletcher and bring him back to us. I thought he'd be able to do that quickly, but it took forever. In the meantime, Death Eaters showed up inside in the square, and Lupin turned up to visit. He wanted to go with us. He'd come to tell us that Tonks was pregnant, and then he offered to accompany us and help us. While on one level it was really tempting to think that we might have someone who knew his arse from a hole in the ground with us, I was furious with him for wanting to leave Tonks and the baby. We rowed. Loudly. He hexed me and left.

"Finally, Kreacher was able to find Dung and brought him back. He told us that the locket had been taken from him by a Ministry worker. Dolores Umbridge."

"And that prompted your ill-planned foray into the Ministry?"

"It wasn't ill-planned!" Harry protested. "We planned it thoroughly, for a long time. It just went to hell when we got inside, like our plans always seemed to do."

"So tell me about this planning. I would be interested in knowing just how Harry Potter goes about plotting to break into the Ministry of Magic when he has been denoted 'Undesirable Number One.'"

"Well," Harry began, "we staked out the entrance to the Ministry for hours every day for weeks prior to going in, watching for Umbridge. She, of course, flooed into the Ministry, so we weren't likely to see her walking with the common folk. But it allowed us to focus on two employees with very predictable routines, a little witch and a bloke from Magical Maintenance.

"So on the day of Operation: Infiltrate the Ministry, we apparated to an alley near the Ministry. As soon as Mafalda Hopkirk appeared, Hermione stunned her, and we dragged her into a nearby abandoned building. Hermione put on her clothes and drank the polyjuice potion and went out to intercept Reg Cattermole. She fed him a Puking Pastille, with predictable results. She finally convinced him that he couldn't go to work in that condition. He was extremely hard to convince. We would find out later that his wife was scheduled to be interrogated by the Muggleborn Registration Commission that day.

"Anyway, Hermione got some of his hairs, and Ron drank the polyjuice and dressed in Cattermole's uniform. Ron and Hermione went off and got some hairs from another bloke. We didn't know who until a bit later. Albert Runcorn."

Snape raised an eyebrow at the name. He, of course, recognized the name from his Death Eater days.

"Yeah, so we used the tokens we'd taken off Mafaldo and flushed ourselves into the Ministry. No wonder Umbridge preferred to use the floo! As soon as we got inside, things started to go wrong. First, Yaxley accosted Ron, demanding that he fix the raining in his office, threatening Cattermole's wife if he didn't see to it. So Ron went off to do that, and Hermione and I went in search of Umbridge. She made that very easy when she cornered us in the lift.

"She wanted Hermione to accompany her to the courtroom. So I got separated from Hermione, too. I decided I'd go to Umbridge's office and try to find the locket there." Harry took a breath to calm the anger that threatened to rise up inside him, hot and fierce, at what he'd found in her door. "She had Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye embedded in her door. She was using it to spy on the employees in her department. I created a diversion, slipped inside her office, and took the eye out of the door. Which turned out to be a mistake, but I wouldn't know that until later.

"The locket was not in her office. Because we wouldn't want anything to be easy, right? I decided to go try to find Hermione, but I ran into Ron in the lift. He still hadn't fixed the problem in Yaxley's office, so he went off to take care of that. I put the Cloak on and went down to the courtrooms. It was awful. There were dementors, and people being dragged out in chains. They were just starting in on Mary Cattermole, accusing her of stealing her wand from a 'real' wizard. I snuck up behind Hermione, and I realized that Umbridge was wearing the damned locket.

"Umbridge's hypocrisy just kind of overwhelmed me, and I stupefied her and Yaxley. I cast my patronus to drive off the dementors, and Hermione grabbed the locket. She duplicated it so that Umbridge wouldn't know we'd taken it. We brought everyone who was in the courtroom with us when we left. We were about to get into the lifts when Ron appeared. The Ministry had been alerted to intruders because I'd taken Moody's eye. When we got up to the Atrium, they were starting to close down all the fireplaces. I channeled my inner Runcorn and ordered them to stop and let our group out first. The real Reg Cattermole showed up. Things were starting to go to hell really quickly at this point. Yaxley came flying out of the lift. Hermione and I jumped into the floo and then we tried to apparate away, back to Grimmauld Place. But Yaxley grabbed on, and we brought him, too.

"When we got to Grimmauld Place, Hermione realized what had happened. Yaxley loosened his grip and she was able to shake him off and she took us off somewhere else, but we'd let him in, see? And we couldn't go back there. Our one safe haven. Gone. For a while, we moved around constantly, never staying in one place long, never having enough to eat.

"One night, we camped beside this stream. We were sitting in the tent when suddenly we heard voices outside. Hermione's enchantments were really good, so they didn't know we were there, but we listened to them talking. It was a small group of wizards and goblins on the run. Ted Tonks was there, and Dean Thomas. Dirk Creswell. Griphook and another goblin whose name I can't remember. Anyway, the goblins had fled Gringotts because of Death Eater influence, but Griphook said he'd gotten his revenge before he left. They talked about Ginny and the others trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from your office, and you catching them. They said that you'd sent the sword to Gringotts for safekeeping. Then they said it was a fake. Which I suspect you knew even then, right?"

Snape nodded in confirmation.

"Hermione pulled out Phineas' painting. I mostly wanted to know that Ginny was all right, but Hermione wanted to ask him about the sword. She thought maybe he'd seen who stole the real sword, but he said it hadn't been removed since Dumbledore used it to try to destroy a ring. From that, we deduced that the sword could destroy horcruxes, which was the first positive bit of news we'd heard in a long, long time. But, of course, we didn't know where the real one was, so that sort of tempered our happiness.

"So Hermione and I were bouncing ideas back and forth about where the sword might be. And then Ron just sort of went mental. He was peeved because now we had one more thing to find. The locket – when you were wearing it, it kind of made you feel hopeless and sad. It was his turn to wear it, but I think he'd been unhappy for a while, and all this stuff just came spewing out of his mouth. He thought that Dumbledore would have told me more. He thought that by that time, we would be further along on our quest. He thought a lot of things. So one thing led to another, and I told him to go. And he went. He left the horcrux, and he apparated away.

"So Hermione and I were on our own. We talked incessantly about where the sword might be hidden, but very little else. Ron's absence was . . . like a weight around our necks. Hermione kept bringing that portrait out, just so we'd have someone else to talk to. Even though he was practically in love with you," he said with a smile. "After what felt like months, we decided to go to Godric's Hollow. Do you know what happened there?"

Snape nodded. "I know that the Dark Lord came very close to capturing you that night. I know that he was very angry to have missed."

"While I was there, we found my parents' grave. Hermione put some roses on it."

"You'd never seen it before?" Snape asked, surprised.

"Who would have taken me? I didn't even know until then that Dumbledore's family lived in Godric's Hollow. Certainly the Dursleys didn't have enough interest in me or my parents to take me there."

"I am sorry that you grew up not knowing about your parents."

Harry shrugged. "Water under the bridge."

"The Dark Lord was less than forthcoming about the details of that evening. If you don't mind filling in the gaps."

"Bathilda . . . well, what we thought was Bathilda . . . found us and lead us to her house. We thought Dumbledore might have hidden the sword with her, you know? Her house was . . . disgusting. Smelled horrible. _She _smelled horrible. She wanted me to go upstairs with her. Just me – not Hermione. I followed her up. I asked her if she had the sword, but she wouldn't answer. Then she . . . she turned into . . . the snake just _came out_ of her neck. It was horrifying. Nagini was . . . inside her. I don't know how long she'd been there, just waiting for me to show up. She was supposed to hold me there until Voldemort came. She struck – bit me." Harry's fingers went to the spot on his arm where Nagini's fangs had sunk in. "She knocked me to the floor and held me down. Hermione heard the struggle and came up. We fought the snake. I could feel Voldemort coming.

"I grabbed Hermione, and we jumped out the window. I apparated us away before we hit the ground. I could _see_ Voldemort crossing the room, realizing he'd missed us again, and screaming in anger. Then I just sort of . . . cycled through these visions. Voldemort killing an entire family because he was looking for Grindelwald. Voldemort killing my mum and dad. I didn't wake up for hours. When I did, we were back in the tent. Hermione said I'd been moaning and yelling. She'd tried to get the horcrux off me, but it was stuck. She had to use a severing charm." Harry placed a hand over the mark on his chest. Yet another scar to add to his collection.

"And the worst part of the whole night? My wand got broken. Hermione threw a curse when we were fighting the snake, and it rebounded and broke my wand. We tried to fix it, but it wouldn't hold."

"I don't understand," Snape said, gesturing at the wand Harry had placed on the table. "This is the wand you have been using since your first year."

"I fixed it with the Elder Wand."

"The Elder Wand?"

"Mm hmm."

"You aren't going to explain any more than that?"

"I will," Harry said, hiding a huge yawn with a hand. "But that really fits into the story a little later. I think I'm all talked out for tonight."


	27. Chapter 27

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-seven

"So. Silver doe. Your patronus."

Snape nodded his head in acknowledgment. "You know why."

"I do. Now. Not then. Not that night, when that beautiful apparition showed up out of nowhere. Looking back, it was kind of stupid of me to follow her into the woods like that. It could just as easily have been a trap. But she felt so familiar, like I'd always known she would show up, and I couldn't _not_ follow her. When she disappeared, I felt so . . . bereft. Alone. But then I saw the sword, and I knew that she'd never meant to hurt me."

"So you went into the water," Snape remembered. "Without removing the horcrux from around you neck."

"Yeah, stupid, I know."

Snape couldn't disagree with that, so he said nothing.

"You were watching."

"Yes."

"Would you have done anything if Ron hadn't come along?"

"I was removing my cloak when Mr. Weasley appeared, sprinting through the trees. I have to admit I was rather grateful that he did. It was quite cold that night, as I recall."

Harry shivered at the memory. It had been more than _quite cold_ that night. "Did you stick around to watch Ron destroy the horcrux?"

"No. I'd already stayed longer than I intended. I was supposed to apparate out of there as soon as I'd led you to the pond. But I stayed to watch."

"Wanted to see me shuck my kit, huh?" Harry said with a look he tried to pull off as a knowing leer but which just came off looking comical.

Snape couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, that was it. I couldn't wait to get a peek at that scrawny pale arse of yours."

"Not so scrawny now," Harry promised. "Hmm, still pale though."

"It better be," Snape mock threatened. "I'd better not hear you've been hanging it out for all and sundry to see."

"I love the way you talk," Harry said with a happy sigh. "But back to the horcrux. It was nasty. It knew that Ron was trying to kill it, and it played on all his deepest insecurities. Told him he wasn't wanted by his mother, that Hermione wanted me, not him. It was awful. I didn't think he was going to be able to do it, but finally he stabbed the fucking thing. Ron Weasley one, horcrux zero."

"And did Mr. Weasley adequately explain his absence?"

"Yes. Hermione forgave him eventually. He'd used the deluminator Dumbledore gave him to find us. It was really good having him back. Hermione was mad at him for quite a while, but she eventually got over it. And then we went to Xeno Lovegood's house."

"I heard about that little adventure," Snape said. "At least the end of it. When you escaped yet again."

"Hermione is the most brilliant person I ever met," Harry said reverently, ignoring Severus' affronted eyebrow. "Lovegood was trying to hold us there because they'd taken Luna, and he wanted to use us to get her back. He had an erumpent horn, which got blown up when the Death Eaters started firing spells. Half the house caved in. All we had to do was apparate out of there, but Hermione knew that if we did that, the Death Eaters would think that Lovegood had tricked them. So she covered Ron with the invisibility cloak, because he was supposed to be at home suffering from spattergroit, right? She blasted a hole in the floor, and _as we're falling_, she apparates us away. But the Death Eaters had seen us, see? So they knew that Lovegood wasn't lying, that I'd actually been there. And she thought all that up right on the spot. Even _you_ have to admit that's pretty clever."

"I never said that Miss Granger was not clever."

"You never told her she was, either," Harry pointed out. "So we spent the next few days debating the Deathly Hallows that Lovegood had told us about. Hermione insisted that they didn't exist."

Severus raised a pointed eyebrow at this.

"All right," Harry conceded, "so she doesn't know _everything_. I sort of got obsessed with the Hallows, but Ron and Hermione kept insisting we needed to concentrate on Horcruxes. Which, of course, they were right about. Next we have to talk about the snatchers."

"Ah yes. Do tell me how, after managing to evade capture for so long, you allowed yourselves to be picked up by snatchers."

"That was all me. We were having a discussion, and I mentioned Voldemort's name. They were on us before we could do anything about it. We'd gotten careless with our usual enchantments. They didn't realize who they had at first. Hermione had hexed me, see, so that my face was all bloated. They didn't recognize me, but they should have recognized Ron and Hermione right off. Not too bright. Greyback was there. When they finally cottoned on to who they had captured, they decided not to take us to the Ministry, but to go straight to Malfoy Manor. Greyback would have liked to call Voldemort himself, I think, but apparently he couldn't?"

"No, he could not," Snape confirmed.

"So they took us to the Manor. They had Draco look at me to see if I was actually Harry Potter. He had to know it was me, but he said he wasn't sure. They were all afraid to call Voldemort if they weren't a hundred percent sure who they had. They took me and Ron down to the cellar and Bellatrix . . . Bellatrix tortured Hermione, trying to get her to tell her where we got the sword from. It was obvious that she was incredibly worried about what else we might have taken from her vault. Dean and Luna were there, in the basement. And Mr. Ollivander and Griphook, too. I had Sirius' broken mirror. I was desperate and thought I saw an eye looking back at me. I thought it was Dumbledore," Harry said sheepishly.

"Turned out I was right, sort of. Anyway. I asked for help. And Dobby appeared. He apparated the others away and came back. They heard the apparition upstairs and sent Wormtail down to investigate. We jumped him, and he got his silver hand around my throat. He was choking me. I called in his life debt, and his hand just . . . turned on him. He choked himself to death. We went up and engaged with the Malfoys and Bellatrix. She called Voldemort. Dobby dropped the chandelier into the middle of the action, and I ended up with Draco's wand and Bellatrix's wand. We all apparated out. Just as we were leaving, Bellatrix threw a knife at us. It hit Dobby in the chest. He died in my arms."

And Harry couldn't go on. The death of his smallest and most devoted friend had struck him hard then, and he still felt it deeply now. He turned his face into Severus' shoulder and gave vent to the grief that was still so fresh. The grief-letting seemed to take a shorter time now, now that they'd been sorting through all of it, allowing some of the intense hurt to heal. When he could speak again, Harry continued.

"Did you know that Voldemort had come to Hogwarts to take Dumbledore's wand?"

"Not until after he'd left. He bade me stay in the castle when he went down to the tomb. An elf later reported the damage, and when I went down to investigate, I saw that the Headmaster's wand was missing. I didn't know the significance at the time."

Harry sighed. "And I was too slow to catch on. Maybe I could have gotten there first."

"It does us no good now to speculate on what might have happened had we done things differently. Let us focus on what we did."

"You're right. We suspected that there might be a horcrux hidden in the Lestrange vault, so we asked Griphook to help us break into Gringotts."

"Now _this_ I know quite a lot about," Snape said. Rumors had flown thick and furious after the trio's successful break-in of the notoriously secure wizard bank. Voldemort's displeasure had made itself known in an incredibly brutal fashion, even for him. Though nothing appeared in the Prophet due to intervening events, a surprisingly accurate version of events had made the rounds later.

"It was our usual plan-well-in-advance-but-expect-the-shit-to-hit-the-fan adventure. Things starting going wrong right away. The goblins were suspicious. Hermione had polyjuiced into Bellatrix. We even had her wand, but they seemed to know something was up. Maybe they'd been warned that someone might try something. Anyway, I . . . I used imperius on the goblin."

"Mr. Potter!" Snape said with mock horror. "The Golden Boy used an unforgivable?"

"Shut up!" Harry said, feeling residual guilt about it. "I'm not proud of it. But we were in there, and we couldn't risk being detained."

"I am not criticizing your choices," Snape assured him. "We were at war. We all had to do things we regret."

"Well thanks for not being upset, because I used it more than once. Anyway, we got in. The goblin took us down to the vault, but we went through the Thief's Downfall and set off alarms. We got by the dragon and into the vault. I could tell the horcrux was in there, but there was so much stuff it took some time to find it. There was a _Gemino_ curse on everything, so everything we touched multiplied and burned. By the time I found the cup, we were nearly buried in junk. Once I had it, Griphook grabbed the sword and ran out of the vault, blending in with all the other goblins who'd come in response to the alarms. We were trapped."

"So you did what anyone else in your situation would have done. You jumped on the back of a dragon and flew your way out of there."

"Exactly," Harry said with a wink.

"Severus," a voice from the floo interrupted them. "Oh, I apologize. I didn't realize you had company. Hello, Harry."

"Good evening, Headmistress."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation that needs your attention, Severus."

"Oh?"

"Yes, two of your first-year Slytherins were dueling with two Ravenclaws. All four are currently in the hospital wing. Professor Edgerstone and I would like your assistance sorting out their stories."

"Of course, Minerva," Snape said. "I will be there momentarily."

"Thank you. And my apologies again, Harry."

"No worries, ma'am. I've got a Potions NEWT to revise for. I should probably get to it."

"Good luck. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully. Good night."

"Good night," Harry echoed, but Professor McGonagall's head had already disappeared from the flames.

Harry sighed. "Duty calls."

"I apologize."

"Don't. It's all right. Go and do what you need to do. I'll see you next time." Risking Snape's anger, Harry leaned over and kissed the other man quickly. "Good night."

**##########**

"So where did we end up?"

"You flew out of Gringotts on the back of a dragon," Snape reminded him.

"Oh yes. It flew for a long time. It finally landed on the shore of a lake, and we jumped off. I saw Voldemort – in my mind – learning of the stolen cup. He was so angry, but he began to get frightened as well. He realized that we knew about the horcruxes. He couldn't understand how we knew, but he was convinced of it. He decided to check the other horcruxes, to make sure they were safe. And he thought about where he'd hidden them all. He thought about Hogwarts. He thought that one was safest, because you were there to keep it safe for him. So I knew where we had to go. We had to return to Hogwarts."

"Where you set off the alarm in Hogsmeade," Snape said. "I was advised immediately when that happened. The Dark Lord . . . Voldemort had warned me that you would likely be arriving soon, and we were told to watch for you, in Hogsmeade, at the gates. He warned me specifically about Ravenclaw Tower, but would not tell me why. I was ordered to station a guard inside the tower."

"Because he knew we were hunting his horcurxes. We were rescued in Hogsmeade by Aberforth. He urged me to run, far and fast. He told me that I shouldn't trust Dumbledore – Albus – his brother, that he was too good at keeping secrets. He told us about how his sister Ariana had been killed when they were children. He had a portrait of her, and behind that portrait was a tunnel which led into Hogwarts. He sent Ariana off, and she brought back Neville."

"Longbottom," Snape said. "That young man really came into his own during that time. He became a leader to the rest of the revolutionaries, absorbed punishment meant for his peers, instigated problems for the Carrows. He was an impressive soldier by the end."

"And you didn't even see him kill Nagini," Harry said, warmed on Neville's behalf by these words of praise from Snape. "So Neville led us back to the Room of Requirement where all sorts of people were gathered. We just really wanted to find the diadem and get the hell out of there, but everyone thought we'd come back to fight. Neville had summoned people, and they started to arrive, all expecting that now was the time to – I don't know, take back Hogwarts. But I had bigger problems. I needed to find something, an item, possibly one significant to Ravenclaw. I had no idea what it was, where it might be. And they were all getting themselves riled up, expecting a battle.

"So I told them what I needed to do, and Luna suggested the diadem of Ravenclaw, which apparently was thought to have been lost for centuries. No one knew where it was, but there was a replica of it on a statue in the Ravenclaw common room, so Luna brought me up there so I could at least see what the diadem looked like. When we got there, Alecto Carrow was waiting. She called Voldemort, then Luna stunned her.

"Professor McGonagall came along, as did Amycus. We'd gotten back under the cloak, so they didn't know we were there. Amycus was going to blame the students for forcing Alecto to call Voldemort. McGonagall called him a coward, and he spit on her. Well that sort of made me angry, so I crucio'd him. This time it worked."

Snape raised a somewhat impressed eyebrow at that news.

"Shortly after that, we ran into you. You did your amazing flying Severus trick. And then things really started to get interesting." Harry paused for a moment. "I know I haven't been here very long tonight, but could we stop here?"

"If that is what you wish," Snape said.

"It's just that . . . we're getting to the end. I think once we start on this next bit, we're going to not be able to stop until it's all over. And then we'll be done. We won't have any more reason to do this."

"I disagree," Snape said quietly. "I enjoy spending time with you, and I do not wish for our meetings to end. You will soon be finishing your education here, and we can begin to explore other facets of this relationship. If you so desire."

"Oh, I so desire," Harry said sincerely. "So can we just sit here a little while, and then finish up next time?"

"Of course. We can play chess."

Harry smiled warmly at Severus and watched as the other man retrieved his chess board. Even though he knew he was sure to get his arse kicked.


	28. Chapter 28

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-eight

Snape watched his students file into the potions classroom. His eyes sought Harry out, as they always did these days. Harry offered him a small, warm smile before settling himself next to Ginny Weasley and setting up for the day's potions brewing.

Snape waited until the class had settled itself and was looking up at him expectantly. "Good day," he started. His efforts to be more agreeable, which had started at the beginning of the school year, were finally bearing fruit. He could now spout these pleasantries without a sneer on his lips and without wanting to throw up in his mouth. He'd never be able to completely change his core personality, but he had put the surliness of the past behind him as he'd settled into this new life.

"As your syllabus indicates, we will continue today our unit on memory potions. You've already brewed, with varying degrees of success, memory enhancing potions and the standard pensieve potion. Today we shall begin work on a specialized pensieve potion which is used almost exclusively in the healing arts. It's name is _memoria lavare_, which, translated literally, means 'memory washing.' Healers use this potion to assist patients who are suffering from trauma associated with a single event. The memory is placed into the pensieve in the solution, and when it is returned to the patient, the negative emotions associated with it have been 'washed' away, allowing the patient to remember the event, but to no longer be held hostage by it."

A Slytherin raised her hand in the front row.

"Yes, Ms. Allen?"

"Wouldn't it be more effective if the memory was destroyed, rather than being returned to the patient? If I had some horrid memory in my head, I think I'd rather remove it completely."

"An excellent question, Ms. Allen, and the topic of today's homework assignment. I want eighteen inches on why having unpleasant memories removed from our consciousness completely might be inadvisable. Now, the ingredients are on the board, and you will find the instructions in your books on page one hundred forty-three. The potion is somewhat technical, but you should be able to complete it in the allotted time. You may begin."

"Sir?" a very familiar voice asked. Harry's hand was hovering hesitantly over his head.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Will we be testing our potions?"

Snape looked down into the earnest face of the young man. His eyes looked troubled, and he seemed somehow agitated. Snape wondered why as he answered, "Anyone wishing to test their potion may do so. There is no danger to an improperly-brewed potion. Anyone who wishes to test their potion should see me after class, and I will assist with the removal of the memory. You should not attempt that on your own."

Harry nodded solemnly and set about preparing his work station in a decidedly subdued manner. Snape wondered what particular memory the boy wished to wash. He certainly had a large store of them: the deaths of Cedric Diggory, Black and Dumbledore; Voldemort's resurrection ceremony; the confrontations with Quirrell and the basilisk; the final battle. He wondered which of those Harry considered his "worst" memory. There were ingredients in the potion that limited it to a single use in an individual's lifetime. Otherwise, it would be tempting to wash all disturbing memories at once and be done with it.

He wondered if he asked if Harry would share with him which memory he planned to place into the potion. As he moved about the room, he paid particular attention to Harry and the strange waves of upset that seemed to be rolling off his young friend.

Harry was deliberately slow about packing up his things at the end of the session, and by the time he was finished, only he and Draco Malfoy remained in the room. He sat and waited for the other boy to leave, and once it became apparent that Malfoy had no intention of leaving, Snape spoke. "Was there something you gentlemen needed?"

Harry spoke up quickly. "I was hoping to speak with you, sir."

"Mr. Malfoy?" Snape inquired.

"I needed to speak with you as well," he invented.

Snape didn't want to speak with Malfoy at all, and he really wanted to talk to Harry. "I will speak with you later, Mr. Malfoy, in my office. Come just before dinner." The dismissal was clear.

Draco slammed his potions book closed, clearly upset. He glared at both of them as he made his way from the room.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape prodded gently once they were alone.

Harry stood up from his table. "Would you tell me if I brewed this correctly, please?"

He approached Snape's desk and held the vial out to him. Snape didn't fail to notice that the hand that held the vial trembled. He took the proffered potion and held the vial into the air, swirling it round and round and admiring its silvery color. He removed the stopper and sniffed the potion within. "It is perfect," he declared.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly.

"Do you want to use it now?"

"No," Harry said. "I want to use it, just – just not right now. The book said that the process of returning the memory can be a bit . . . disorienting. Is that true?"

It warmed Snape, just a little, that Harry would trust his word over the word of his potions book. "Yes, that's true."

"I think I'll wait until the weekend then."

Snape had to know. "Have you chosen a memory?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I know the memory." And he offered no more information. "Is it all right if I do it Saturday?"

"Of course it's all right," Snape assured him hastily. "It's your memory, Harry. Come to me, and I will assist you with the retrieval."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "Will you keep the potion safe for me until then?"

"Of course I will. I will keep it with my other personal potions."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely. "I'll let you get back to it. You must have another class coming soon."

"I do," Snape confirmed. "Harry, if . . . if you need to talk this evening, we can forego the potions lesson."

"No," Harry said. "No, I really don't want to talk about it." And he didn't. This was one memory he didn't intend to share with _anyone_. Ever.

In the hallway, Draco Malfoy pushed himself away from the wall. Served them right, the two of them, talking like that without silencing or privacy charms. And what was this _Harry _nonsense? Malfoy had had suspicions for some time that there was something going on between Snape and Potter – they were awfully familiar with each other, meeting frequently, just the two of them. Something had to be done. He had plans for Snape, and they didn't include Harry Potter. It was time to get rid of the competition.

**##########**

Harry sat before the Headmaster's pensieve, which McGonagall had let him borrow. Severus had helped him to retrieve the memory he wanted to put into it this afternoon, and the vial which held it lay on the table beside the bowl. Harry could tell that Severus had wanted very badly to know what memory Harry wanted to cleanse, or, at the very least, to be present when Harry washed it, but Harry had to do this alone. He'd never told anyone about this time in his life, and he never intended to. But he was about to begin a relationship with a man he'd fallen in love with, and he wanted nothing to come between them. The memory lying in the vial had the potential to do just that.

Harry picked up the vial and was just about to uncork it when he was startled by a scream. Returning the vial to his desk, Harry hurried into the common room.

"What's wrong?"

Morag MacDougal, the only "eighth year" left here besides Malfoy and himself, was lying on the common room sofa, holding onto her right leg. Or what should have been her right leg, as there was nothing there from the knee cap down.

Harry dropped to his knees beside her. "What happened?" he asked, wanting to help but not knowing where to touch or what to do.

"I don't know!" she moaned. "I was just sitting here, studying, when suddenly I heard a pop, and I looked down, and my leg was gone! Oh my God! My leg is gone!"

Morag was quickly becoming hysterical. Harry took a quick look around the room. All of the doors to the rooms were closed. The hex could have come from behind any one of them, but Harry didn't have time to investigate. He needed to get Morag help quickly.

"Kreacher!" he shouted.

The elf popped into existence before him. "Yes, Master Harry? How may Kreacher be of service?"

Harry scooped Morag up into his arms, being careful not to jostle the affected limb. "Take us to the hospital wing." Kreacher grabbed onto Harry's leg, and they all disappeared.

Before the pop of apparition had even finished echoing, Draco Malfoy poked his ferrety nose out from his room. When he saw the common room was empty, he smiled a self-satisfied smile.

**##########**

Now Draco sat before his own pensieve in his own room, Harry's vial of memories clutched in his hand. He'd been keeping a close eye on both Severus and Potter since he'd overheard them in the classroom, close enough to know that Severus had helped Potter to retrieve a memory that Potter was very reluctant to talk to Severus about. Draco wanted very desperately to see that memory, and he'd hexed a classmate's leg off in order to get Potter out of the way. In his haste to be the hero, as usual, Potter hadn't even thought to close his door. Draco suspected that Potter would stay with his wounded classmate while she was being tended by Pomfrey and calculated he had plenty of time to view the memory before Potter returned. He uncapped the vial and dumped the contents into the pensieve before submerging himself in Potter's past.

**##########**

_Eight-year old Harry Potter lay on a thin mattress in a boot cupboard, staring at the ceiling, dread filling his small being. Aunt Petunia was gone with Dudley to a movie, and Harry had been left alone with Uncle Vernon. Being left alone with Uncle Vernon was never a good thing. Usually, Harry managed to stay out of his way by keeping to his cupboard, quiet as a mouse, praying earnestly that his aunt and cousin would return quickly. _

_But when Uncle Vernon had been drinking . . . that was BAD. Then, nothing Harry did could keep himself away from his uncle's attentions. Then, Uncle Vernon would remember some misbehavior that Harry had engaged in, or simply make something up, and Harry would be "disciplined." _

_Years ago, when Harry was younger, Uncle Vernon was happy just to spank the boy and send him away. But as Harry got older, the discipline got . . . more involved. What had been a single swat on the bum, with Harry fully clothed and standing up, had devolved into a full-out, over-the-lap, multiple-swat ordeal. But lately . . . Last week, Uncle Vernon had made Harry lower his trousers and his pants before laying him out over his legs. Harry had been tense, laying over that beefy lap, waiting for the first blow to fall, but it had been a long time in coming. And instead of a blow, Harry had felt a large hand come down, almost gently, and caress his bum. He'd sucked in a breath, shocked, and that had seemed to spur Uncle Vernon back to his original purpose, and the hand had come down hard then, once, twice, almost more times than Harry could keep track of, until his bum was burning and aching like never before. Harry had then been dumped to the floor, and Uncle Vernon had rushed from the room, leaving Harry to crawl painfully back to his cupboard, his trousers and pants still around his ankles. _

_And then three days ago, it had gotten even worse. This time, when Harry was pulled over his uncle's lap, naked from the waist down, Uncle Vernon had also removed his own trousers. Once Harry realized this, he'd struggled desperately to get away, but Uncle Vernon was so much bigger and so much stronger, and the struggle was over pretty much before it had begun. By the time the spanking was over, Harry had felt something hard beneath his chest, something that hadn't been there before the beating began. And once again, Harry had been pushed to the floor before Vernon fled with a somewhat painful-looking waddle._

_And now, they were alone again, and Harry knew that it was only a matter of time. Still, he jumped when he heard the bellowed, "Boy! Get your arse out here!"_

_Harry wished he could pretend himself away from here, but he knew that he was trapped. They were alone in the house, and if Harry didn't come out on his own in the next few seconds, his uncle would come in after him, and it would only be worse. So he drew in a large, shaky breath, got to his feet, and presented himself to his uncle._

"_Up the stairs!" Vernon barked in that belligerent tone Harry was so accustomed to, but which was hardened even further by the drink. _

_This was new. Vernon usually punished him in the sitting room, on the sofa._

"_Up . . . up the stairs, Uncle?" Harry questioned, his eyes on the floor, as he'd been trained._

"_You heard me, boy! UP!" Uncle roared_.

_Harry jumped and hastened to obey, but when he reached the top of the stairs, he hesitated, not sure where to go from here. Vernon's heavy foot on the stairs soon caught him, and he was grabbed by the shoulder and pushed into the master bedroom. Though moments ago he'd been more afraid than he could ever remember being, the fear eating away at his stomach now ratcheted up to new and terrifying levels._

"_You know the drill, boy," Vernon growled._

_Harry did, but he couldn't seem to move, his fear choking off all rational thought and movement. A large hand pushed him again, with more force this time, and he fell to the carpet. _

"_Off!" Vernon ordered. "Or I'll do it for you."_

_Still on the floor, Harry's fumbling fingers struggled with the button on his trousers before finally getting it to open. Trembling, Harry climbed to his feet and pushed everything down to his knees, his back to his uncle, not wanting to turn around ever. _

"_All the way!" Vernon said. "Off! Take them off!"_

_Harry wasn't wearing shoes, so it was a simple matter physically to push his clothes the remainder of the way off. Grateful for once for his cousin's cast-offs, Harry huddled inside the over-large shirt which nearly touched his knees._

_He heard his uncle moving around behind him, but he did not turn around. The bed squeaked, and Vernon ordered, "Come here."_

_Keeping his eyes on the floor, Harry turned and took the two steps needed to get him bedside. His uncle's bare legs entered his vision, and his weakened knees threatened to no longer support his weight. Before he could collapse to the floor, his arm was grabbed and he was pulled forcefully over his uncle's hairy legs. When it registered that this time, his uncle hadn't retained his pants, Harry's fear overwhelmed him, and he felt his bladder let go._

"_You nasty little freak!" Vernon roared, immediately aware of the warm liquid running down his own bare leg. "You are going to pay for that!" Up to this moment, Vernon hadn't even bothered inventing an excuse for disciplining his nephew – the brat had provided him with one without him having to exercise a brain cell._

_Harry's shirt was pulled up to reveal buttocks which hadn't really recovered from the last time they'd done this, and one, two sharp whacks were laid on the tender flesh. Harry knew better than to protest or cry out, and he knew better than to hope that that would be the end of this. Uncle never stopped with two._

_Once again, the large hand returned to his bum, this time rubbing firmly. "You like this, don't you, you little freak?" _

_Harry felt something moving beneath his belly and immediately decided to pretend that he hadn't. The fingers on the large hand caressing him were working their way into crevices which had never been touched by anyone other than himself. Until another sharp slap landed there, making him jump once again._

"_You're a filthy little slut, aren't you, boy?" Vernon growled, his voice taking on a tenor that Harry had never heard. "You've been begging for this. Probably using your freak powers to force me to do this to you. Say it!" Vernon ordered. "Say you're a slut!"_

_Harry couldn't. He had no spit in his mouth._

"_I said, say it!" Vernon roared. He reached below Harry's shivering body and took hold of his genitals in one hot hand and squeezed. _

_Harry screamed, the sound high and almost animal-like. Vernon released the pressure, but did not let go. "Say it! Say you're a slut."_

"_I . . . I'm a s-slut," Harry choked out around the sobs he could no longer hold back, and something tiny, some tiny spark that he'd spent a lot of time nurturing over the last seven years, began to flicker and die._

"_You want this," Vernon said next. "Say it."_

"_I want this," Harry said, his voice deadened._

"_Well since you asked so prettily," Vernon said, and he stood up abruptly. Instead of dumping Harry to the floor, he circled his arms around Harry's waist and threw him onto the bed. Before Harry could react to this change in circumstances, his uncle landed on top of him, driving the breath from him. Something hard and slender worked its way between his legs, poking at him insistently._

"_Up, boy," Vernon grunted, his breath hot in Harry's ear. The large man drew back enough to pull Harry to his hands and knees. "This can be good for you, too," he said in what he probably thought was an enticing tone as he dropped back onto Harry, this time holding himself up enough that he didn't flatten the boy beneath him. His hand crept beneath Harry and took hold of him again, squeezing and pulling gently._

_With his other hand, he took his own penis in hand and directed it toward the boy's buttocks. _

_As soon as Harry felt that, felt the incessant prodding of that awful appendage, the little flicker inside of him, which had nearly blown itself out, suddenly flared to life with such force that Vernon Dursley was blown backward and upward, striking the ceiling, then the opposite wall, and then landing on the floor in a blubbering heap. His hands were cupped at his groin, and he moaned and curled around himself as though he'd been kicked there. _

_Surprised, Harry turned on the bed, his eyes large and disbelieving. What had just happened? One moment, his uncle was . . . And then there was a loud crash and the man was lying on the floor. Harry whipped his head, looking around the room – maybe someone else had come in and pulled his uncle away. But they were alone._

_The eyes of the boy and the man met. Something inside Harry hardened, and the boy staring back at the man had lost something, some part of his soul, some part of his innocence, some part of his youth. The green eyes glowed with a hatred that no eight-year old should possess, and Vernon Dursley was suddenly very, very afraid._

"_Get out!" he whispered. _

_Harry fled._

**##########**

Draco allowed himself a moment to ponder what he'd seen, but only a moment – he needed to get the memory back into Potter's room before the Boy Wonder returned.

The large man in the memory was obviously Potter's uncle. Potter appeared to be quite young, seven or eight maybe, and it was apparent to Draco that this incident of abuse had not been the first. Although given Potter's reaction, he'd wager that the bloated uncle had never taken things quite as far as he'd tried to take them on this occasion. As if Draco had needed any reminders of just how powerful Potter was: that blast of uncontrolled magic, from such a young child, could very well have killed a man ten times his weight.

So St. Potter had been abused as a child. He'd never have guessed. Were he anyone else, Draco would have had at least a small amount of pity to spend on the child Potter was, but he was at war with Potter now, over Severus. And wartime was no time to indulge in pity for the enemy. And out of this pathetic memory he'd just viewed he began to see a way to rid himself of the one man who stood between himself and the only man he'd ever wanted.

"Gibby!" he barked, and his house elf appeared before him once again, bowing low to the ground, the overly large ears scraping the floor.

"Master Draco is wanting Gibby?"

"Yes," he said, handing the refilled vial back to the elf. "Take this back to Potter's room and put it back exactly where you took it from. While you're in there, I want you to find some samples of his handwriting, homework or something. Get as much as you can and bring it back here. And be quick about it. If he catches you, or if he can tell that someone's been in there, I will string you up myself."

"Master's wish is Gibby's command," and the house-elf disappeared.

Malfoy wasted no time. He holed himself up in his room and began writing, using the samples of handwriting he'd obtained and a forgery spell.

_Dear Severus,_

Had Potter been accorded the privilege of using Snape's first name? Probably, Draco reasoned, what with all the time they'd been spending together lately. He also guessed that Severus and Harry hadn't consummated their relationship yet. He had faith in Severus – the man had too much integrity to get involved in that way with a student. He was certain of it. Though he was sure he could convince Severus to violate those principles with the proper motivation.

_Dear Severus,_

_Our time as professor/student is coming to a close. We have waited a very long time for this moment to arrive, and I have given a lot of thought as to how we might "transition" our relationship to the next level. I hope you don't think I'm being too presumptuous – _

No, Potter would never use a word like presumptuous. Too many letters and syllables. He scratched it out.

_too forward. I dream every night about the things that you can teach me in the bedroom, and what our first time will be like. I have fantasies that sometimes make it difficult to sleep. I am wondering if you might agree to make one of them come true?_

_I'm blushing as I write this, and I'm not entirely sure I will even send this letter. If I work up the nerve, would you do me a favor and not mention this to me in person? It's possible I may die of embarrassment. If you respond, leave a letter for me in the girls bathroom on the second floor. No one ever goes in there. The tank in the middle stall is empty. I'll look for your letter there. Sorry if this seems a little too clandestine – _

Again, too big a word.

_sneaky, but I wouldn't want anyone to intercept our letters._

_Harry_

Satisfied, Draco set that letter aside and started another.

_Harry,_

_Our time as professor/student is coming to a close. We have waited a very long time for this moment to arrive, and I have given a lot of thought as to how we might "transition" our relationship to the next level. I hope you don't think I'm being presumptuous._

_I dream every night about the things I can teach you in the bedroom, and what our first time will be like. I want very much to make your first time memorable, something that you will look back on years from now and remember with nothing but positive feelings._

_I can see you blushing as you read this. I wish I were there to see it, as I find your innocence nothing short of charming. But I suspect you will find this topic easier to write about than to discuss in person, hence this missive. _

_I would like to request a favor of you, Harry. I would like you to give some thought as to the types of activities you would like to engage in when we spend our first night together. Perhaps you have a favorite fantasy you call up when indulging in self-pleasure. I would request that you share the favorite of these fantasies with me, so that I may work to make your fondest dream come true. _

_We need not speak directly of this. Set your thoughts out in a letter to me, and I will do my utmost to make your every fantasy a reality. You can leave a letter for me in the girls bathroom on the first floor. I believe you are familiar with it. The tank in the middle stall is empty. I'll look for your letter there. If anyone can appreciate this clandestine method of communication, it is you._

_Yours, Severus _

Draco read both letters over again, satisfied both with the content and the tone. He'd send these letters today, and then he'd have Gibby monitor the bathroom mentioned in the letters to snatch up any letters that were left there. It was crucial that neither Snape nor Potter know that their correspondence was being tampered with. He'd construct appropriate responses, and then, when the time was right, he'd share Harry's worst nightmare with Snape, in the guise of a fantasy.

If that didn't drive a Vernon-Dursley-sized wedge between Snape and Potter, Draco's middle name wasn't Scorpius.

**##########**

Harry had been shaken by the adrenaline rush that had coursed through him in response to Morag's horrifying injury. He'd stayed with her in the hospital wing, holding her hand as Madam Pomfrey attended to her missing limb. Even when Professor Sprout had arrived, having been summoned as the injured student's head of house, Harry had stayed, partly because he wanted to see Morag through this and partly because she seemed unable to let him go. When finally the mediwitch had found the proper spell to reverse the curse, and she'd caused Morag's leg to reappear where it should have been all along, Morag had been given a strong calming draught, and Harry could finally slip away. He'd needed to rid himself of the extra energy, and he'd decided to take a walk on the grounds. It was a beautiful spring day, and Harry's gait slowed as he put some distance between himself and the awful situation he'd just been through, until finally he was able to draw in a large breath of clean fresh air and rid himself entirely of the increased adrenalin.

It was then that the school owl found him. It landed on a nearby rock, scooted sideways, and stuck its leg out toward Harry, doing a little hopping dance to keep itself upright. Harry remove the attached parchment and said to the owl, "Sorry. I don't have any treats."

Harry could swear that the owl rolled its eyes at him before spreading its wings and flapping away.

Harry perched on the rock and unrolled the parchment. He immediately recognized the handwriting. When he'd finished reading, a small, pleased smile crept over his face, along with a dull flush that signified his embarrassment at the content. He certainly had wank fantasies involving Severus, but he wasn't sure he wanted his first time to be like that. He'd have to give this some thought.

**##########**

"So," Snape said aloud to the empty room, a pleased smile on his face, "he's had fantasies. Mr. Sweet and Innocent. Fantasies. How could I not make them reality?" He drew parchment and quill toward him and began to write a response to Harry's charmingly innocent missive.

**##########**

Draco had only had to wait one day for Snape's reply to appear in the bathroom. Gibby brought it to him with a deep bow. Draco read the brief letter, it's assurances to Harry that Snape would do everything within his power to make Harry's dreams come true causing an evil smile to spread across his face as he began to write.

The following day, Gibby brought his master a letter that Harry Potter had written to Severus Snape. Malfoy nearly gagged when he read Harry's request that Severus – _his _Severus – make their first night together as gentle and loving as possible. Harry professed his trust that the other man would do nothing to hurt him needlessly, and included how much Harry was looking forward to the night that he took his Potions NEWT as the first night of the rest of his life.

No response was necessary to either letter. The damage had already been done – Potter's letter (written by Draco) requesting the fulfillment of his fantasy had already been sent to Severus. The only thing that could destroy Draco's plan now was if either one of them mentioned the letter to the other. He didn't think they would – he'd made it plain in the correspondence that the sender would be much too embarrassed to talk about these things face-to-face, and he thought both Potter and Severus respected each other enough to abide by that stricture.

Now he only needed to find out when Potter was taking his NEWT, which would be as simple as contacting Millicent Bulstrode, who'd obtained a job at the Ministry in the Wizarding Examinations Authority office. And then Potter would be out of the picture and Severus would be his.


	29. Chapter 29

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further.

**Note:** We're approaching the end. Only two chapters left after this one.

**##########**

Chapter Twenty-nine

Snape studied the man sitting across from him. He'd been very surprised, to put it mildly, to receive the letter from Harry detailing his request for their first sexual liaison. He'd thought Harry much too naive and innocent to have a spanking fettish. Quite honestly, the thought of striking the young man was more than a little off-putting, and if Harry hadn't begged him in his letter not to bring this up when they met in person, he'd like to question Harry about his request, to ensure he knew what he was getting himself into and that he was certain he wanted to proceed in this manner. Harry's request had been incredibly detailed, though, indicating that he'd put some thought into what he wanted. Though physical punishment wouldn't have been Snape's first choice, if this was truly what Harry wanted, he would do his best to give it to him. But only the once. After their first time, they were going to have a talk and find some common ground between them so that they'd both feel comfortable in the bedroom.

But in the meantime . . .

"We are nearly done our stroll down memory lane," he observed.

"Yeah," Harry said, somewhat sadly. "I've arranged to take my NEWT on Monday. I think I'm ready."

"I think you've been ready for quite some time," Snape pointed out.

Harry's mouth quirked up in an embarrassed smile. "I wasn't ready to leave yet."

"I am pleased that you have stayed as long as you have," Snape said honestly. "But let us finish up. We have at long last reached the final battle."

"Yeah, so they were evacuating the students. The younger ones. The older ones wanted to stay and fight. And then Voldemort made his announcement, telling them to turn me over or there'd be hell to pay. I couldn't find Ron and Hermione. I was looking for the last horcrux, and the only clue I had was that Voldemort had stationed the Carrows in Ravenclaw tower because he thought I'd go there. The only thing I'd ever heard associated with Ravenclaw was the diadem, which everyone agreed had been lost for centuries.

"It suddenly occurred to me that someone who was no longer living might be able to help me figure out where the diadem might be. I tracked down the Ravenclaw ghost, who turned out to be Helena Ravenclaw, daughter of Rowena herself. Did you know?"

Snape shook his head. "No. That was very clever of you."

Harry smiled, flushing with pride. "She refused to help me at first, thought I wanted the diadem to get better grades or something. I finally convinced her that it was the only way to get rid of Voldemort. She told me that she'd stolen the diadem from her mother and went to Albania. Rowena fell ill and wanted to see her daughter one last time, so she sent a man to find her, someone who had loved Helena, though she didn't love him back. He found her, and when she refused to go back with him, he killed her. 'He' was the Bloody Baron. Did you know _that_?"

"Did I know he'd killed someone? No. I always assumed the blood was his own."

"Well, it might have been. After he killed her, he was overcome with remorse and killed himself. Helena had hidden the diadem in a tree, and there it stayed until her ghost told Tom Riddle about it many years later. He retrieved the diadem, and then he hid it in the castle when he came here looking for a job. I knew all that, but I didn't know _where_ he'd hidden it.

"So I went off to try and find Ron and Hermione. I saw a gargoyle that had been damaged, and a memory struck me. Remember when you demanded that I turn the Half-Blood Prince's book over to you?"

"Which you clearly did not," Snape stated.

"No. I hid it in the Room of Requirement. I thought I might want to find it again, so when I put it in a cabinet, there was a bust on top of it. And I put a diadem on top of the bust, to make it easier to find. So I started out for the Room of Requirement. On the way, I ran into Ron and Hermione. Finally. They'd been in the Chamber of Secrets gathering basilisk fangs, and they'd destroyed the horcrux in the cup."

"How did they get in?" Snape asked.

"Ron. He remembered the noises I'd made when I opened the locket, and he opened the chamber. So we all headed to the Room of Requirement. There was so much stuff in there that it was impossible to remember exactly where I'd seen the diadem, so we split up to look for it. I found it, but before I could get to it, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle appeared. We talked for a bit, and then it got ugly."

"I've read the Ministry's report regarding what happened in that room, Harry. There's no need to go over it, unless you want to." Several of Snape's students and former students had died that night. He'd felt some remaining sympathy for them, regardless of their affiliation at the time of their demise, and he'd made it a point to read all the after-action reports regarding the circumstances of their deaths.

Harry looked relieved that he didn't have to go through the details regarding one more senseless death. "Bottom line – horcrux destroyed, Crabbe killed, Room of Requirement, at least that representation, destroyed by fiendfyre."

"Not to mention you rescued Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle."

Harry nodded his acceptance at that statement. "Right after that, Fred was killed."

"I am sorry."

"So am I. Fred was . . . life and laughter and joy. George just isn't the same without him. I miss him still." Before he became overcome by sadness, Harry soldiered on after clearing the emotion out of his throat. "I used my connection with Voldemort. He was, as you know, hiding out in the Shrieking Shack. We made our way there through the tunnel under the Whomping Willow. He was with Lucius Malfoy. Lucius kept begging Voldemort to be allowed to go out and find Draco, but Voldemort wouldn't let him. Then Voldemort sent him out to get you. And you came."

Snape remembered this portion of the story well and had no desire to relive it. But Harry, of course, had questions.

"When did you know he intended to kill you?"

"As soon as he started talking about the wand. I knew he thought that I was master of the wand and that he would need to kill me. I had hoped I could talk him out of it, or stall for time. I still had not delivered the information to you that Dumbledore had entrusted to me. But he was not to be dissuaded. It is fortunate that you were there."

Harry shuddered and reached out to take hold of Severus' hand. "It was horrible. And so senseless. I felt so helpless! I still hated you so much then, but to see you like that . . . That the man you'd given everything to could have so little regard for you . . . I wanted to help you, but I had no idea what to do. I thought you died in my arms." Harry was embarrassed by the tears that had sprung to his eyes, and he turned his face away so that Severus would not see them."

Severus hooked Harry's chin and turned his face back. "You had other things to worry about that night. Do not feel guilt over me. Short of the avada kedavra, I had been prepared for years for the various ways the Dark Lord might kill me. When Arthur Weasley was bitten by Nagini, I set to work to develop an antivenin. Once I did, I began taking a daily dose, building the toxin up in my bloodstream so that in the event he ever did set the snake on me, I'd be protected. The Dark Lord was mad, Harry, and loyalty meant nothing to him. Her venom was strong. Though it did knock me out for a time, it did not kill me. When I regained consciousness some time later, alone in the Shrieking Shack, I mended the injury as best I could, downed several vials of blood replenisher, and was preparing to get out of there when assistance arrived."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I should have at least made sure that you were dead. I just left you there."

"No," Severus admonished, wagging Harry's chin back and forth gently. "No guilt. We both did what we had to do. We are here now to talk about it. I'd say we were both victorious."

Harry maneuvered his chin out of Snape's hand and kissed the man's palm. "I'm glad you're here."

"And I feel the same about you. So you viewed my memories. Did your friends view them as well?"

"No. I left them in the Great Hall with the Weasleys. Do . . . do you want to talk about the memories?" He understood that Snape had given him those memories believing there was every possibility he would die. It was conceivable he didn't want to discuss them.

"You have questions?"

"You told me that you loved my mother."

"I did. We met as children, as you know. She was the first person to look beyond the weird child that I was, in dress and manner, and befriend me." He could tell by Harry's manner that he still felt insecure about Severus' love for his mother. "Harry, do you love your friends? Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes," Harry answered immediately.

"Why?"

"Because they saw the real me when no one else ever had. Because they stuck by me through everything."

"Then you understand how I love your mother. She was my friend, the very first and the very best I ever had. She will always hold a special place in my heart."

"Oh, that's good," Harry said, relieved that he wouldn't be competing with his mother for Snape's romantic affection. But something still troubled him. "But . . . she _didn't _stick by you. She refused to accept your apology. She wouldn't forgive you for something that you said in a moment of anger and extreme humiliation. Maybe if she had, you would have chosen a different path."

"Do not blame your mother for my poor decisions, Harry. I do not. I was already well down the path I had chosen when your mother refused to accept my apology. She was not the reason I became a Death Eater."

"But she should have seen how close you were to being led that way, and she should have done everything she could to make sure that you didn't!" Harry said earnestly. "Instead, she turned her back on you and left you to fend for yourself. If Ron or Hermione were being tempted by something that I knew would hurt them, I'd do everything in my power to bring them back."

"Yes, you would," Snape agreed. "That is part of what makes you who you are. But your mother had just had enough. As I said, I do not blame her. I am man enough to accept responsibility for my own actions. But I cannot imagine how you felt after viewing those memories in the pensieve."

"You mean to finally understand that I'd been raised to be a sacrificial lamb? I was numb. Although some small part of me finally was able to make sense of things that had never made sense before. Why I had that connection to Voldemort. Why I could speak parseltongue. I won't deny there was some sense of betrayal, that Dumbledore had kept me safe all these years just so that I could die at the most strategic time. But I also sort of understood his point of view. He had so many people he had to keep safe. I was just one of many."

"Do not delude yourself, Harry. Albus loved you. You were special to him," Snape said with intense sincerity. " I know that it's hard to believe that now, but he really and truly loved you. He lost sleep over the need to leave you with your despicable relatives, and he searched tirelessly for a way to rid you of the horcrux without your having to die in the process. When he concluded that there was no other way, he prayed – actually _prayed_, Harry, that if you managed it right, you would survive, but the horcrux would die. And you did."

"Yeah. That walk into the forest was the hardest thing I've ever done. Some part of me wanted to run away. Not very brave, huh?"

"Fear would have been a natural reaction. It's not every man who could have put that fear aside and done what needed doing like that."

"I thought about all the people who would die if I didn't at least try. Hermione. All of the Weasleys. Everyone I loved would have been targeted."

"So you walked alone into the forest."

"I wasn't alone," Harry disputed. "Remember the snitch that Dumbledore willed to me? I finally figured out what it was all about. 'I open at the close.' The resurrection stone was inside the snitch. When I turned it over, my parents appeared. And Sirius and Remus. They went with me. It was easier, having them there. They kept me strong. I followed a couple of Death Eaters through the forest to Voldemort. And I . . . let him kill me."

"You just stood there and let him hit you with a killing curse?" Snape asked, amazed.

"Yes. It was important that I sacrifice myself, so I tucked my wand away so I wouldn't be tempted to use it. Not that it would have done me much good. I was surrounded by Death Eaters. One of them would have gotten me even if Voldemort hadn't."

"What happened next? You obviously did not die."

"This is where it gets weird. I woke up in this . . . place. It was all white and hazy. I didn't have my glasses, but I didn't need them. I was naked, but as soon as I thought I'd like to have some clothes, a robe appeared. I thought I was alone, but then I heard this whimpering noise. There was this . . . thing, almost like a baby, but it had no skin. It was very gruesome. It just lay there, twitching."

"What was it?"

"Well, it turned out to be Voldemort. Before I could figure out where I was or what the heck was going on or if I was alive or dead, Dumbledore showed up. He told me I wasn't dead but that the horcrux was. He explained that Voldemort couldn't kill me outright because when he took my blood to resurrect himself, he took part of the protection my mother had given me. He said that was why Voldemort's wand wouldn't work against me.

"We talked about the Deathly Hallows. He told me about his sister, Ariana. Did you know he had a sister?"

"No."

"She was attacked by muggles when she was little, and it messed her up. Dumbledore's father was imprisoned for going after those muggles, and Ariana's mother kept her hidden away. Everyone thought that Ariana was a squib and that her mother was ashamed of her, but Ariana's magic was . . . volatile. Dumbledore developed a friendship with Grindelwald the summer that Ariana was killed. They shared ideas about blood purity. There was a fight between Grindelwald and Aberforth, and when it was over, Ariana was dead. Aberforth told me that they were never sure who had actually cast the fatal curse, but Dumbledore – Albus – felt responsible. Eventually, Dumbledore came to feel differently about the importance of pure blood, and he came up against Grindelwald and killed him. Grindelwald had the elder wand at the time, and that's how Dumbledore became its master.

"He told me how he'd found the resurrection stone inside the ring at the Gaunts and put it on, hoping to see his sister again, but he was cursed. He planned his death with you so that you'd end up with the elder wand, but that obviously didn't work out. Did you know he intended you to have it?"

"No. He failed to mention that little fact."

"By the time you killed him, the wand had already changed allegiances. Draco Malfoy disarmed him on the tower just before you arrived. The elder wand recognized Draco as its new master because of that. Voldemort was convinced that the owner had to be killed before the wand would change allegiances, but he misunderstood that, along with so many other things. At Malfoy Manor, I disarmed Draco, and from that point on, the elder wand was mine. I didn't even know I was running around with the deathstick until I talked to Dumbledore after I was dead.

"And then he told me I had a choice whether I went back. He said I could go . . . on. Board a train and just go on. See my parents and Sirius."

"That had to be tempting."

"It was. I was tired – tired of being hungry and in pain and just tired of being tired. But if I didn't go back, Voldemort would be the master of the elder wand. He would kill everyone I love. So there was really no choice. Dumbledore left, and I woke up on the forest floor."

"How long had you been out?"

"I don't really know. But apparently Voldemort was knocked out, too. Bellatrix was helping him up when I came to. I lay there, pretending to be dead."

"Did the Dark Lord realize right away that he had not killed you?"

"He sent Narcissa Malfoy to check to see if I was dead. I thought it was all over then. She asked me if Draco was still alive. He certainly was the last time I'd seen him, so I told her that he was. She told Voldemort I was dead. She didn't do it for me – she did it because she wanted to see Draco. But it worked – Voldemort believed I was dead. He crucio'd me, but the funny thing was that he didn't have any power behind the spell."

"Because his wand would not work against you," Snape posited.

"Exactly. He forced Hagrid to carry me up to the castle, and he dropped me on the ground while he grandstanded and taunted everyone about how he'd got me in the back while I was running away. You should have seen Neville – he was awesome! Voldemort summoned the sorting hat, put it on Neville's head, and set it on fire. But Neville yanked it off and pulled the sword out of it and decapitated that stupid snake! It was amazing! In all the confusion, I pulled the cloak on and snuck off to find Voldemort. I found him in the Great Hall, dueling three other people. Bellatrix was there, too, dueling some of the students. She shot a killing curse at Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley came barreling in. She killed Bellatrix. She was SO amazing."

"I would have liked to have seen that – the ferociousness of Mother Weasley protecting one of her cubs against the madness of Bellatrix Lestrange."

"It wasn't really a fight at all," Harry said. "Then Voldemort raised his wand against Molly. I threw up a shield charm and pulled off the cloak. Then it was just me and him. He yacked at me for a while, as per usual. I told him how he'd miscalculated your loyalty and the elder wand. He denied that it was possible he wasn't the smartest wizard to ever cast a spell. He cast avada kedavra. I cast expelliarmus. The spells met. His wand – the elder wand – came flying to me. He was dead before he hit the floor. It was over."

"Expelliarmus," Severus repeated with incredulity. "You used expelliarmus in a fight to the death with the Dark Lord?"

"It worked," Harry defended himself simply. "There was immediate celebration. I tracked down McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt and told them about you. I told them that someone should go to the Shrieking Shack and retrieve your body, because _you_ were the real hero in all of it, but when they got there – they found you alive, somehow, miraculously, alive. They brought you up to the hospital wing, and you know the rest from there."

Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment until Harry said, "So that's it. The whole story. We're done with the past now, Severus. It's time to move on to the future."

"I agree," Snape said. "You will come to me Monday evening, after you've taken your NEWT?"

"I will."

And Severus had to try one more time. "Harry, are you completely sure that this is what you want?" The fact that Harry wanted him to use physical force against him was still unsettling, and Severus would confess to a large amount of relief if Harry told him that he'd reconsidered.

"I've told you it's what I want. I haven't been able to think about anything else," Harry confessed shyly. Thoughts of beginning his life with this man that he had come to love had consumed a large majority of his waking hours lately. The idea of becoming physically intimate with Snape had been haunting his dreams.

"And you are sure?" Severus pressed.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Severus."

The two men stared at each other for long moments. "I will do my best to give you what you want, Harry, but I would like to request that if you change your mind at any point, you need only let me know."

"I won't change my mind," Harry said, confused by Snape's ambivalence toward the step they'd been working toward for many months now. The man seemed really uncomfortable.

"It is customary," Severus said, "in these situations, for the parties to agree in advance to a safe word."

"A safe word?" Harry was now really confused.

"A word that one party uses when he wishes to put a stop to any . . . activities that go beyond what he may have expected, or when he becomes overwhelmed."

"And you think we need a safe word?" Was this normal when two men engaged in sex? Harry could certainly imagine himself becoming overwhelmed when Severus touched him, and he worried incessantly that he would shame himself by coming within five seconds of Severus laying a finger on him. He'd been trying to work on his stamina, but he knew – he just _knew_ – that all of that would go out the proverbial window when Severus Snape touched him anywhere. But a safe word? He'd have to defer to Severus' more vast experience for the need for such a thing. Harry knew that his own innocence must be glaring at Snape at the moment.

"I think it would be a sound idea," Severus continued.

"Um . . . okay. How about . . . quidditch?" Harry suggested.

"That is certainly not a word that I would use in such a situation," Snape agreed with a small smile.

"All right," Harry said, feeling lost at sea. He knew he was terribly innocent in the ways of the flesh, but what exactly would they be doing to each other that they would need a safe word?

"And on that note," Snape said, strangely serious, "you should probably head back to your room. If you have any questions or need any additional assistance while preparing for your NEWT, please feel free to come to me. If I do not see you before Monday, I wish you the best of l luck."

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. "For everything."

"It has been my pleasure."


	30. Chapter 30

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further.

**##########**

Chapter Thirty

It had been very difficult for Harry to focus on his Potions NEWT, but his desire to impress Severus, to make him proud, had driven the anticipation for this evening out of his mind enough to concentrate on the subject at hand. He thought he'd done quite well, on both the written and the practical portions of the exams, but he wouldn't know for sure until a week or ten days, when he received his results. He'd owled Severus from London, directly after taking the exam, and told him that he thought he'd done well and that he was looking forward to this evening with great anticipation. Now, though, he sat in a restaurant, waiting for Ron and Hermione. When he saw his friends coming toward him, he got excitedly to his feet.

Hugs and welcomes were exchanged, and the three sat down. Harry couldn't stop smiling – he'd missed his friends so much – though he was a bit apprehensive. He intended to come clean to his best friends tonight. He was about to embark on a serious, adult relationship with Severus Snape, and he didn't want to keep it a secret any longer. He had no intention of living his life with Severus in the dark.

He waited until their meals arrived before broaching the subject. They'd already discussed Harry's Potions NEWT, and Ron's job, and Hermione's schooling, and Ron had asked Harry what he planned to do next. Which was the opportunity he'd been looking for.

"Well, I've got a few ideas percolating about a career. I think I'm gonna take a little time off, maybe travel some." If he could get Severus to go with him. "I've never really been anywhere, you know? Once I've done a bit of that, I'll settle down to something." He paused to take a sip of water, gathering his nerve. "But I've got someone to do with it."

Hermione understood right away, but it took Ron a moment to process what Harry had said. Once he did, a large smile lit his face. "Harry's got a girlfriend," he sang.

Harry looked at Hermione. She met his eyes, shook her head once, then looked away.

She hadn't told him. She hadn't told Ron that Harry was gay. Harry had thought sure that Hermione would share that news immediately. This could potentially be awkward.

"Um, Ron," he said. "It's . . . uh . . . not a girl."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I haven't got a _girl_friend."

"Very funny, Harry. Who is she? How'd you meet her?"

"I'm not kidding, Ron. He's very much a man." Harry smiled at his friend, hoping to soften the blow.

"Stop joking, mate. It's not funny."

"Ron," Hermione interceded, "he's not joking. Harry's gay."

"No, you're not," Ron argued. "You went out with Cho and . . . and my sister. You couldn't possibly be queer."

"Ron . . ." Hermione said warningly.

"No," Harry said. "It's okay. I'm gay, Ron. I didn't realize it back then, but looking back, I see now why things never seemed . . . easy with girls. I wasn't attracted to them. I've since had time to properly think about things, and there's no doubt about it. I'm gay."

Ron sat back in his chair, looking horrified. "So all those years, when we were sharing a room, sharing a _shower_ . . . you were . . ."

"No, Ron," Harry said, his voice tight with the effort of keeping his temper. "I wasn't. I never once looked at you that way."

Ron seemed unconvinced, and he shivered in revulsion. He stared in disgust at the person who until moments ago he had considered his best friend. "You're a poof?" he spat, finally apparently accepting what he'd been told. "You and some bloke have been . . . you've been letting some bloke put his dick up your arse?"

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione admonished, looking around the restaurant to make sure other patrons weren't listening in. "Keep your voice down! And stop being so crude!"

"No, Ron," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's attempt to keep from making a spectacle. "I actually haven't. We haven't reached that point yet. But I certainly do plan on it. And I'm hoping that he'll let me reciprocate at some point. But let's put it all out on the table, right here, right now. It's not just any bloke I've been seeing. It's Severus Snape. And if you say one wrong thing about him, you and I are finished. I'll not expect you to like him, but I would expect that you will respect our friendship enough to not disparage my partner to my face."

Ron had just had enough. "Partner?" he spluttered. "Snape . . . _partner_? You're fucking someone old enough to be your father, someone who actively hated you for years, someone who's uglier than the homeliest mountain troll . . . you're fucking _Severus Snape_, and you expect me to what? Encourage you? Compliment you?"

"I don't expect you to do any of those things. I only want you to respect that it's my choice," Harry said through clenched teeth. "I don't want things to be awkward between us."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," Ron promised him, throwing his cloth napkin to the table and standing up. "There isn't going to be any 'us' to be awkward about. You're disgusting! Fucking Snape?! You'll have to excuse me, because I'm going to lose my lunch now." Ron strode away from the table, but not before barking, "Hermione, let's go!"

Hermione ignored the command and stared sympathetically across the table at her shell-shocked friend. "I'll talk to him," she said urgently. "He'll come around. He was just surprised. He doesn't mean any of it!"

"Yes, he did, Hermione," Harry said sadly. "Did you know your boyfriend was a homophobe?"

"He's not, Harry," Hermione begged him to believe. "You just surprised him. Part of that is my fault, for not telling him about you all those months ago. But Snape, Harry . . . that still would have been a surprise. It certainly is to me."

"Yet you didn't insult me _and_ him and stomp out of here like a two-year old."

"He didn't mean those things he said," Hermione reiterated. "I'm going to talk to him, and he's going to feel like a total shit and he's going to apologize. And when he does, you're going to let him!" she ordered.

"Don't bother, Hermione. I don't think I could ever forgive him for what he said." Or the nasty way he'd looked at Harry, like he was lower than a dung beetle. You didn't just talk someone out of a prejudice like that.

"Please, Harry," Hermione pleaded, near tears. "Give it some time. If Snape makes you happy, then he'll have no choice but to support you. He's your friend. He wants you to be happy."

Harry doubted all of those statements, but he could only sit there despondently and say, "You'd better catch him up. He'll be waiting on you."

Hermione was torn between wanting to stay here and comfort her distraught friend and wanting to go after her boyfriend and berate him and beat him senseless for his beliefs and the things he'd said here. She got slowly to her feet and kissed the top of Harry's head. "I'll be in touch soon."

And she was gone. Harry didn't even care enough to look around to see if anyone had found entertainment value in the little scene he'd just participated in. He waited several more moments, until he felt as though he could walk out of here without breaking down, threw enough money on the table to cover lunch for all three of them, and walked out, head held high.

**##########**

Harry had allowed himself a brief cry when he returned to his room. His friendship with Ron was over, killed in a fancy restaurant in London by Ron's intolerance. The person he'd most relied on for the last seven years of his life had viciously turned on him, and he thought cleansing tears were an appropriate response to that betrayal. After an hour of so of feeling wretched enough to throw up, Harry began to think about his future, specifically what was going to happen tonight. After the terrible day he'd had, he was looking forward even more to consummating his relationship with Severus. Immediately, perhaps as early as tomorrow, he intended to let the world know about this new relationship. Everyone who didn't approve, anyone like Ronald Weasley, could just go straight to hell and hang with Voldemort. He was happy with his choice and didn't feel a whit of shame. Love was love, even if it took the form of one man loving another, much older, man.

But now, here he was, standing in the corridor in front of the door to Snape's chambers, nerves making his stomach swoop and dive as though he was riding a roller coaster. Still emotional after his argument with Ron, he took a deep breath to calm himself. At some point, he'd have to tell Severus about Ron's reaction to his announcement, but not tonight. Tonight was about them. He knocked twice on the door, and pushed it open.

The sitting room was empty, which surprised Harry. He'd thought they might sit for a while, maybe share a drink, work their way up to the intimacy which was to come. Apparently they were going to start right off in the bedroom. Taking a deep breath to quell his nerves, Harry crossed the room and entered the bedroom.

Snape sat in a chair in the middle of the room. He looked severe and forbidding, swathed in a black robe. Before Harry could speak, to ask what exactly was going on, Snape said, "You know what to do." He sounded angry.

"What?" Harry said, confused.

"Off!" Snape growled. "Undress from the waist down! Do it now, or I will do it for you."

"Severus, what's – ?"

"You will obey!" Snape roared.

"Um . . . okay," Harry said. With fumbling fingers, he unbuttoned his trousers and pushed everything down to the floor. His shirt tail hung low enough to cover his privates, but he still felt exposed and embarrassed. He toed off his shoes and stepped away from his clothes and stood trembling, waiting for Snape to tell him what do next. Was this how men had sex? He hadn't expected it to be so . . . frightening.

"Come here," Snape said, his voice a little gentled, but still grating harshly in Harry's ears.

Harry slowly approached the older man, and when he was within striking distance, Snape reached out, grabbed Harry's arm, flipped his own robes open to reveal that he wore nothing beneath, and pulled Harry over his lap.

"You are a little freak," Snape snarled. "And it falls to me to correct that." He pulled up the tail of Harry's shirt, revealing well-toned buttocks. Snape knew he was supposed to be administering a spanking, but he couldn't resist running a hand gently over those enticing globes.

"You're going to like this," Snape promised, just before administering the first slap. Harry jumped and drew in a sharp breath.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, his voice thick with fear.

"As I said, you are a freak, and we must try to beat that out of you. Now, I want you to count each blow, thank me for it, and ask me for another. Do you understand?"

"No," Harry said, crying now. "Why are you doing this?"

"You have asked for it," Snape said. Another blow fell, stinging Harry's tender skin and making him jump again. Snape rubbed the spot where he'd struck. "Come now, Harry. Count for me."

"No," Harry sobbed.

"You will only make this worse for yourself," Snape said. "If you do not do as I say, I will double the number of blows."

Harry was sobbing earnestly now. This was not what he'd been expecting to happen here tonight. It was as though Uncle Vernon had some infiltrated Hogwarts and inhabited Snape's body. Harry began to struggle now, trying to get away, but Snape held him firmly.

"Suit yourself, stubborn boy," Snape said, striking Harry several more times, raining the blows down rapid-fire. "I know that you like this, you little whore. And you beg so pretty. When I finish with you, you will be unable to sit comfortably for a week!"

"Please, please, stop this!" Harry begged. "You're hurting me!"

"But you love it so, Harry, don't you? It excites you. I know it does. You are getting hard, aren't you? I know I have been looking forward to this for a long time."

Through Harry's distress, he recognized that Snape had been planning this – it's why he had established a safe word. As he felt Snape's hand worm its way between their bodies and wrap itself around his flaccid penis, Harry spit out the word.

"Quidditch!"

Snape's hand stilled as he simultaneously realized that Harry was not, in fact, enjoying this and he heard the safe word. He released his hold on the shivering man spread across his lap, and Harry wormed himself onto the floor. He was crying wildly now, near hysteria, as he crawled on hands and knees back to his clothes. He climbed awkwardly to his feet, pulling on his trousers as he did, foregoing the pants and shoes in his haste to escape from this chamber of horrors.

"Harry!" Snape said, trying to figure out what had gone so drastically wrong. Wasn't this exactly what the boy wanted?

"No!" Harry said. "Don't . . ." Holding up his unfastened trousers, Harry bolted from the room.

Harry left Snape's rooms, shoeless, holding his trousers up with one hand and his wand in the other, tear streaks on his face, and panting, close to panic. He had to get away. He didn't understand what had just happened. The evening he'd been looking forward to for so long, the consummation of this relationship that had come to mean so much to him, an epic event in his life that he'd thought would be filled with encouraging words and gentle touches and patience and love, everything he'd set forth in the letter he'd written to Severus – it had all gone to hell. Severus – _Snape_ had been cruel and nasty and he'd _hurt_ him. Even after Harry had begged him to stop, he'd continued to – _spank_ him. Harry had never felt so humiliated, so betrayed. He needed to get back to his room, preferably without seeing anyone, and curl up in his bed and stay there for the rest of his life.

That plan was thwarted three steps from the door by Draco Malfoy, who stepped out of the shadows into Harry's path. "Problem, Potter?" he sneered.

"Get out of my way, Malfoy," Harry choked out.

"Now, don't be hasty. I just wanted to thank you for the show."

"Show?" Harry asked, despite his desire to get away. "What show?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" Malfoy asked with faux innocence. "Severus' quarters share a wall with the Slytherin common room. Severus charmed the wall in his rooms. He told us to be in the common room tonight, that we'd all get a great show. And did we ever!" the blonde enthused.

"He didn't!" Harry said. No, Severus – Snape would not have done that. "You're a lying, pathetic piece of shite!"

"'Please, please, stop!'" Malfoy said in a high, girly, whiny voice, guessing that Harry would have, indeed, used those words. "Which one of us is pathetic?" he sneered.

"No!" Harry whispered, convinced now that Malfoy and who knew how many other Slytherins had witnessed his humiliation. "Why? Why would he do that? I thought he . . ."

"You thought what?" Malfoy challenged when Harry couldn't go on. "You thought he _loved_ you? He's been using you, Potter, playing you since September. And you've been so easy, falling right into his trap without a second thought. Typical Gryffindor! You're a fool, Potter, and you mean _nothing _to Severus."

Harry felt as though his world was crumbling around him. He had no reason to doubt Malfoy. He'd clearly witnessed Snape spanking Harry, which meant that Snape had, in fact, charmed the wall to make that possible. So all the time they'd been spending together, all these months they'd been talking and getting to know each other, Snape had been setting him up for this ultimate humiliation. Was this some sort of twisted revenge on James Potter, visiting suffering on the son when he'd been unable to retaliate against the father? Harry had to get out of here. He pushed by Malfoy, tears streaming from his eyes again, and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Malfoy watched him go, a satisfied smile on his face. He'd gambled on a lot of little things going his way, but his plan appeared to have worked exactly as he'd hoped.

When this day had begun, only two eighth-year students remained at Hogwarts. Thirty minutes after the confrontation between the two remaining eighth-years ended, there was only one: Harry Potter's room had been completely cleaned of his possessions and he was nowhere to be found in the castle or on the grounds.


	31. Chapter 31

**BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL**

by Warviben

**Summary: ** Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

**Warnings:** This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further.

**Note:** Well that worked out perfectly. Post the last chapter today, go on vacation tomorrow. And so you all can be jealous of me, I leave tomorrow for Orlando. Where I will spend my birthday. AT HOGWARTS.

Thanks to each and every one of you who has stayed with this thing until the end. Thanks especially to those of you who have taken the time to review. I read every one and feel bolstered by your kind words of support.

You probably all hated me after the last chapter, but hopefully this makes up for it. And we certainly earn our M rating here.

**##########**

Chapter Thirty-one

Seven years later . . .

Severus Snape walked the streets of New York City, keeping as much distance as possible (which wasn't much) from the masses. This city was fascinating, though crowded, and Severus was pleased he'd made the trip here for the International Potions Masters conference. He'd almost not signed up, but at the last moment he'd owled in his registration paperwork. The symposium earlier today on the use of aloe in conjunction with other plants and herbs in healing balms alone had made the trip worthwhile, and the demonstration of the effectiveness of copper-bottomed cauldrons was fascinating. And now, while the rest of the conference members were dining together, and drinking together and socializing, Severus was walking the streets, observing the sights, experiencing the sounds, of a city he'd always wanted to visit. He'd eat later in the quiet of his room.

Severus turned right onto 41st Street and immediately stopped dead in his tracks. There, several yards ahead of him on the street, was a man, a very familiar-looking man, at least from the back, a man that Severus hadn't seen for seven years and had thought never to see again. As he stood there, the man, who might or might not be Harry Potter, was getting further and further away from him, and finally Severus shook himself loose and began to follow.

He kept his quarry in sight only by twisting and turning through the crowd. A block later, the man turned left onto Broadway. By the time Severus arrived at the intersection, the man was nowhere in sight.

**##########**

The following day, Severus was standing in the exact spot where he'd last seen Potter the previous day. He hoped that he'd seen Potter yesterday living his regular routine, and that if he waited here today he'd find him. He was owed some answers, and by Merlin, he intended to get them. He leant as surreptitiously as possible against a post, keeping his eyes open, looking at his watch every so often, not losing patience when the time he'd been here yesterday came and went. His perseverance was rewarded when he spotted the man coming toward him, the green eyes focused to the front, a takeaway bag in one hand. There was no doubt any longer – this was Harry Potter. He waited for Potter to pass, then stepped into the foot traffic behind him.

He only had to follow his quarry for half a block before the familiar head of hair turned and entered the door of an apartment building. Severus intended to follow him through the door, at a discrete distance, but by the time he arrived, the door had closed, and the security system in the building would allow access only to those who knew the code or those who were allowed admittance by someone from inside.

A list of the tenants was posted beside the door, showing the names and apartment numbers of those who lived inside. Snape looked down the list. There were sixteen apartments in the building, four to a floor if the numbering system had any logic to it. Quick review of the list revealed no Potter, so perhaps Harry was visiting someone, or he was living here under an assumed name. Severus went down the list, name by name: 1A - B. Charles; 1B - D. Ogden; 1C - G. Hartnett; 1D - V. Theriault; 2A - E. Beemis; 2C - H. Peverell; 2D - . . .

Peverell. That couldn't be a coincidence. Severus went quickly down through the remaining names, just to be sure, but Peverell was the only one that had any connection to Harry Potter.

Snape's finger went to the bell, but he stopped before pressing it. Chances were better than even that Potter wouldn't even let him in if he rang the bell. No, he had to get inside, show up at Potter's door, and force entrance if need be. Then he'd get the answers he'd been waiting for for so long. He'd come back tomorrow, somehow get inside the building, knock on Potter's door and not go away until he'd gotten what he needed.

**##########**

And he did come back the next day, just as he'd intended, an hour earlier than before, to give himself enough time to infiltrate the building before Potter came home. He placed himself under a notice-me-not spell and lounged against the side of the building, biding his time. He waited twenty minutes before another tenant left the building. Before the door had closed behind him, Severus had slipped inside the closing door.

He located flat 2C, which had a conveniently placed maintenance cupboard nearby. A simple _Alohomora _to gain him access, and a spell on the door to allow it to be seen through from his side, and he was ready to wait for Potter to get home.

**##########**

Forty minutes later, Potter was ambling up the hallway toward his door. Before Severus could decide whether to jump out and accost the young man before he entered his apartment, or whether to wait and knock and request entry, Potter had gone inside. Severus counted to five and left his hiding place.

**##########**

Harry opened the door, assuming one of his neighbors was calling, since no one had rung the bell from the street. When he saw who his caller was, his mouth dropped open. "Holy hell," he said. "What are _you_ doing here? How did you find me?"

"Coincidence. I've come for answers. You owe me."

"I . . . _What_? _I _owe _you? _Of all the . . . after what you did to me?"

"What _I _did to you? I only did what you wanted. May we take this inside?"

"No! You're not coming in here! You betrayed me! I trusted you, and you . . . used me for your own sick fantasies!"

"What are you talking about, betrayed? You asked me to do those things to you! I only did what you wanted!"

"What I wanted? How could you think I wanted you to do those things to me? Do you know how long I'd been looking forward to that night? How much I wanted you to be my first?"

"That is what I wanted as well!" Snape protested. "But then you said those things in the letter."

Harry stared at him like he'd turned green. "What are you talking about?"

"The letter you wrote. To me. Telling me what you . . . Didn't you write a letter?"

"I wrote a letter, but I never asked you to . . .." Harry stared at him for a moment. "I think you'd better come in." Harry stepped aside so that Snape could pass inside the apartment. Severus took a moment to look around. It was nice. There was obvious money here, but not ostentatiously so. The furnishings were expensive and well-maintained, but the room into which Harry ushered him seemed . . . sterile, impersonal, like whoever lived here did so by himself, no family, no visitors. He had a pet, though, to break up the silence. A black cat with a familiar white patch came padding from the kitchen area. Snape remembered Dora, the little part-kneazle with metamorphmagus abilities that Harry had purchased during his eighth year. She'd been still a kitten when Harry had left him – she was a fully-grown, gorgeous cat now. She twined around her master's ankles, then looked up expectantly at Snape.

"Um . . . would you like to sit?" Harry invited, clearly out of practice at entertaining.

"Yes, thank you." Snape seated himself on the sofa, and Harry sat in the comfortable-looking recliner.

Dora jumped into the familiar lap, and Harry began absently patting her. "Start at the beginning," he ordered.

"The beginning is too far back. What we need is the beginning of the end. I received a letter. From you. In that letter, you said . . . you asked me if I would fulfill your fantasy on the night we first came together."

"I never wrote any such letter," Harry said, obviously confused. "I got a letter from _you _asking me to tell you what my fantasy was, so that our first night together . . ." Harry was unable to continue as memories of their time together filled him with rage and humiliation again, but his curiosity forced those feelings aside. There was something strange going on here. "You received a letter from me first? You never mentioned any such letter to me."

"You asked me not to. You told me you were embarrassed, and you asked me not to speak to you of it. You asked me to leave a response to you in a bathroom. I thought it was a little odd, but I could understand that you might a bit nervous about the whole thing, so I wrote you back, telling you I would do whatever you wanted. And I left the note in the place you had requested."

"And you got a response? But not the one I wrote?"

"I received a letter that I believed to be from you. It was written in your handwriting. You wrote, in great detail, about how you wanted your first time to unfold."

"And I said I wanted . . . that?"

Severus nodded in confirmation.

"But I didn't . . . I would never . . . that was more like my worst nightmare than a fantasy. The letter that I wrote asked you to . . . Who did this? Who wrote the letters?"

Severus had figured it out already, and he was quite sure that Harry had as well. "Can't you think of someone who wanted to come between us?"

"Malfoy," Harry said. It had to be Malfoy. "Oh God. When I left . . . after you . . . when I was leaving your place that night, he was there, in the hallway. He said that you'd charmed the wall in your quarters so that all of the Slytherins could watch when you . . . He said that you'd been leading me on all year, playing a prank on me, that you'd always intended to betray and humiliate me."

"And you believed him?"

"After what you'd just done to me?!" Harry cried. "And he seemed to know. How could he know if he hadn't been watching? And if that part was true, then all the rest of it must be, too, right?" Harry asked, looking at him with beseeching eyes. "I couldn't stay, not knowing that they'd all seen it. And I felt so hurt and so betrayed and so _humiliated_ that I didn't think I'd be able to look you in the eye ever again. I convinced myself that you'd finally had your revenge on my father. So I packed up my stuff and I left. That night."

"Did you tell no one where you'd gone?"

"I told McGonagall only that I was leaving. I owled Hermione," Harry said. "I'd told them, her and Ron, about . . . us, when I was in London for my NEWT. She was all right with it, but Ron . . ." He didn't want to get into that ugly scene again. "Anyway, I owled her that things hadn't gone very well and that I needed to get away for a while."

"And you came here?"

"Yes. As soon as I could, I apparated away from Hogwarts. I went to Heathrow, and I got on the next plane out. I didn't even care where it was going. I just wanted out. I ended up here."

"You have a passport?"

"Yeah. Hermione made us, Ron and me, get them when we were hunting horcruxes. She said you never knew when we might need to make use of Muggle transportation. I think they were real, although I wouldn't put it past her to have forged them. If it was a forgery, it was a good one, because no one questioned it."

"And what have you been doing since?"

"That's . . . but there's something I don't understand. You said the letter was in my handwriting. How is that possible?"

"The same way that your Miss Granger would have made the passport, if she did indeed do such a thing. Forgery spell. If you have an original document to work from, copying the handwriting or the formatting is child's play. All Draco would have needed is a sample of your handwriting. That would have been easy enough to obtain, I would wager – an old essay left laying around would have done the trick."

"But how would he have known that that scenario . . . with you . . . what you did to me . . . how would he have known that that was the one thing that would have driven me away from you?"

"I don't understand."

"My worst memory. The one that I wanted to wash. Remember the potion you taught us? That was the one I chose."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand. You had a memory of me spanking you?"

Harry's cheeks colored at the remembered humiliation. "I don't think I want to talk about this any more. I'm really sorry that I didn't talk to you before I left, because maybe we would have straightened this all out back then, but I . . . I think you should go now."

"I have been wondering what happened for seven years. I gave you everything that I thought you wanted, despite how personally abhorrent I found it, and my reward for that was you disappearing, without a word or a trace. I understand now why you felt the need to flee without speaking to me, but I want to understand how this happened to us. I _need_ to understand. Please."

Harry jumped up from the chair, dumping Dora onto the floor, and Snape thought sure he was about to be evicted forcefully. But Harry only began to pace agitatedly between the front door and the door to the kitchen. The cat, sensing the tension in the room, raced back into the kitchen. Harry seemed to be working something out in his mind, so Snape let him be. Finally, after many minutes of muttering and hair pulling, Harry stopped and heaved a deep sigh. "It wasn't you. In the memory. It was my uncle."

"Your uncle used corporal punishment on you?"

"Yes, but it was worse. It only happened when my aunt and cousin weren't home. He'd start drinking. He . . . he used to get angry with me, on purpose I think, using any small thing as a reason. And then he would punish me. It started out as simple spanking, over the clothes, one swat. But then it . . . changed. Each time it would get a little worse. He made me drop my trousers, and he'd hit on the bare. And then he'd make me lay across his lap when he did it. And then he made me take everything off. And then . . . and then he took his own trousers off. He would get . . . hard as I lay there across his lap, crying and begging him to stop. The more I squirmed, the more he seemed to like it. And then that last time, the time I put in the pensieve, he was going to go further. He pulled me into his bedroom. He hit me and threw me onto the bed. He made me say I wanted it and that I was a whore. And he was going to rape me. But before he could . . . put it in, my wild magic went crazy and threw him off of me. I was eight." Harry's telling of these horrific events was somewhat detached. The potion had done a good job of washing the memory, and it almost seemed now as though it had happened to someone else.

"Oh, Harry."

"He never came near me after that," Harry assured him. "I think he was too afraid. But I wanted _our _first time together to be just the two of us, not him. So I put that memory into the pensieve, and I washed it, and when I put it back, it was . . . better. I could think on it without feeling the fear and the shame and the humiliation. I _knew_ that it happened to me, but it felt as though it was someone else's memory. Brilliant potion, that."

"Did you ever tell Draco Malfoy about that memory?"

"What? No! Of course not! I've never shared that memory with _anyone _before now! I wasn't about to start with someone I hated!"

"But don't you see he must have known about it?" Severus argued. "How else could he have set this up? Did he ever have access to the pensieve at any point while you were washing the memory? Did you ever leave it alone?"

Harry dropped back into the chair and put his head into his hands. He thought back to the day he'd put that memory into the pensieve. "Yes!" he said, as the horror of that day returned to him. "That was the day Morag Macdougal's leg disappeared! Oh my God! Do you think he cursed her, just to get me out of the way?"

"I have recently come to believe that that boy is capable of anything."

"So he . . . he set the whole thing up? Learned my worst memory, wrote a letter to you from me telling you that was what I wanted most, and then waited to see the fallout? Made sure I'd leave by telling me that you'd set me up and let all the Slytherins witness my humiliation?"

"It appears that way, yes."

"Where is he now?" Harry demanded.

"I have not seen him for at least two years. He ran into some trouble when a man he was involved with dropped him suddenly. He'd been living off this man, running up debt with many shops, and when he was cut off from funds, and had no means with which to pay that debt, he disappeared. Rumors had him living with his mother's family in the south of France."

"If you know where he is, I want you to tell me!"

"I assure you I do not, nor do I have any interest in protecting him. He has taken something from me as well."

Harry jumped up again. "I could kill him!"

"I share the sentiment," Snape said calmly. "But as we have no idea of his whereabouts at the moment, I'm afraid revenge must wait."

"I'm so sorry, Severus," Harry whispered.

"Whatever for?"

"I just ran away. Like a scared little child. If I'd only stayed and talked to you . . ."

"Do not blame yourself, Harry. Draco and Draco alone is responsible for this."

"So what do we do now?" Harry asked, looking and sounding lost.

"I . . . don't know. I finally have the answers I have been seeking," Severus said, rising to his feet. "I suppose that I shall return home."

Harry stood quickly. "Wait! Do you have to go? I mean . . . have you eaten? I was just about to eat. I've plenty, if you'd like to stay. For dinner."

Severus considered the invitation. "I would like that."

Harry smiled warmly. "Great. The kitchen's . . .." He gestured vaguely in its general vicinity.

Severus followed Harry into the small kitchen. While Harry retrieved plates and utensils, Severus poured tea, and Dora began a very charming attempt at begging to share their dinner. When they had both been seated at the small table and had served themselves from the take-away containers, Harry broke a piece of chicken into pieces and set it on the floor, where Dora pounced on it immediately. He turned to Severus and asked, "So what are you doing in New York?"

"Potions conference," he answered after wiping his mouth on a napkin. "I've been here four days. I was taking a walk two days ago when I spotted you one street over. I lost you in the crowd, but I returned yesterday to the spot where I had last seen you and waited for you at the same time as I'd seen you the day before. I followed you to this building, but I could not get in because of the security system."

"So you came back today?" Harry asked, looking a little pleased.

"I did. I waited until a tenant left the building, and I slipped in behind him. I found your flat and waited in the maintenance cupboard across the hall for you to come home."

"How did you know I lived here, that I wasn't just visiting a friend or something?"

"I didn't. But I hoped, since you were here two days in a row at approximately the same time, that this was your normal after-work routine."

"You hoped?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Severus said, looking frankly into Harry's eyes. "As I said, I have been wondering for a very long time just what happened on that night, why you left me and then disappeared like you did. When I saw an opportunity to finally have some answers, I did not want to just let it go. I wanted to know what I had done wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong!" Harry protested. "Well, I guess back then I thought you did, but . . ."

"I surmised I must have done _something_ to drive you away like that. I believed I was giving you just exactly what you wanted in a first-time experience, but I hardly had a vast amount of experience in that area. It was entirely possible that I had somehow messed something up without realizing."

"You didn't," Harry assured him.

"You can say that now," Severus pointed out. "Neither of us knew _then_ what had happened. I simply wanted to know, for my own peace of mind, I guess."

"Oh," Harry said. He paused to take another bite, and his cheeks colored when he slurped the noodle he was eating. "Sorry."

Severus felt the same attraction for the boyish young man before him that he'd felt all those years ago. He wanted to ask what Harry had been doing for the last seven years, how he made his living, who his friends were, whether he had a lover, whether he'd _ever_ had a lover, but before he could speak, Harry was asking yet another question.

"Are you still teaching at Hogwarts? I haven't had much contact with anyone but Hermione, and we don't really speak about the school much."

"I left Hogwarts five years ago and am now with a private company researching and brewing potions. The hours are fewer and the pay is exponentially greater."

"Plus it sounds like something you would enjoy much more than teaching," Harry observed.

"That is certainly a benefit. What about yourself, Harry? What have you been doing for the last seven years?"

"Well, when I first got here, I didn't know anyone, of course. I sort of drifted around for a bit before I met this bloke who was looking for an apprentice. He took me under his wing, taught me everything he knew, and when he passed away three years ago, he left me his business. He didn't have any family. He told me many times I was like the son he'd wished he'd had."

"And what is it exactly that you do?"

"I make wands, mostly. And broomsticks. The occasional staff. Oh, and wooden stirring rods, for those potions that require it."

This interested Severus. Some earth magic potions required that nothing touch them that wasn't organic itself. Wood was a great conductor of magic, obviously, but wooden stirring rods had to be crafted by a master who knew what he was about – too much magic used in the manufacture of the rod would nullify the effects of the potion. When he'd moved to Potable Potions two years ago, they had just started using wooden stirring rods that had come from overseas. Severus had found them to be far superior to any he could obtain locally and refused now to use any but those from Sedgewood.

"What is the same of your business?"

"Sedgewood," Harry said, confirming what Severus suspected he was going to hear.

Severus smiled. "I am very familiar with your product. They are excellent. Just the right balance of magic in every one."

Harry smiled in return, pleased by this exacting man's recommendation of his product. "Thank you."

"You must tell me all about the process. The rods that I have are made from redwood, I was told."

"Yes, that's right."

"Are not the redwoods endangered?"

"They are," Harry confirmed. "I use only what has dropped naturally from the tree. I have a supplier on site in California who is able to pick branches up almost before they touch the ground, I think. They've still got their life's magic in them, but it's stabilized, because the branch has broken from the tree. I can get several stirring rods or wands from one branch. Even made a broomstick from one once. Using the branches the tree has released allows the tree to continue to thrive, and the stable magic makes it easier to carve, which is all done by hand, using the contours of the magic. It's kind of hard to explain. If you're interested, I could take you to the shop after dinner, show you around."

"I would like that very much," Severus said sincerely.

They finished their impromptu meal, talking little, and once they were finished, they left the apartment to walk the three blocks to Harry's studio. The door to the studio was decrepit and sandwiched between two others. It looked so nondescript and unimportant that it appeared no one would ever be interested in passing through it. Which, of course, was just how Harry had charmed it.

Once through the door, Severus found himself climbing a set of stairs that was nearly dimly-lit enough to cover the worn treads and the paint peeling on the walls. He began to wonder just how successful Harry's business was. He himself was certainly sold on the product, but it appeared that he might be one of a very few.

Once he passed through the door at the top of the stairs and Harry flicked on the light, however, an entirely new picture was presented. The space was one large room, decorated with light wood paneling and hardwood floors, and charmed to let in loads of natural light. Bins held like types of wood together along two walls, a third wall shelved tools of all sorts, both hand and electrical, and a huge workbench dominated the middle of the room. One corner housed a desk and filing cabinets and other office equipment and was clearly where Harry kept his books. The room was well-lit and smelled wonderfully of recently-sawn wood. There wasn't a speck of sawdust to be seen anywhere, so Harry obviously kept his materials and work area well maintained.

"Impressive," Snape murmured.

Harry glowed under the praise. "Thank you. See, here's the redwood," he said, leading Severus to one of the large bins. "It comes to me like this." He retrieved a large branch from one bin and held it out to Severus. "I cut it down to the lengths I need, then get as many wands or stirring rods as I can out of the piece." He walked toward the workbench in the center. "Then I carve it however the magic strikes me, here, using whichever tools I need." He gestured toward the tool board. "I finish it here." "Here" was one end of the workbench where polishes and waxes and stains and clean rags were stored.

"You do all this yourself?" Snape asked.

"Just me, myself, and I," Harry said brightly. "I don't sell direct to the consumer. I supply wand shops, potion supply houses, broomstick suppliers and the like."

"So you're here all day by yourself," Severus observed. "What types of things do you do in the evening?"

Harry looked away. "Mostly I just go home. Sometimes I cook, but sometimes I pick up something on the way home."

"Have you made no friends here? Surely you've been here long enough to have met people your own age?"

"Um . . . I don't get out much actually. After a long day of work, I like to just go home and put my feet up."

"That certainly does not sound like the Harry Potter I used to know. The Harry Potter I used to know was a highly social creature."

"I'm not _him _any longer," Harry said quietly.

"I can see that. And what about . . . intimate relationships? Have you found someone here to share yourself with?"

"You do not get to ask that question!" Harry said, anger fueled by embarrassment hardening his tone.

But Severus thought he had his answer, and he was saddened by the fact that the trauma they'd shared had made Harry cut himself off from life.

"What about you?" Harry challenged. "How many people have you been _intimate _with since I left?"

Severus thought about lying, but he owed Harry the truth. "Three," he said. Three men over the course of seven years wasn't shocking.

"Was Draco Malfoy one of them?" Harry asked.

"No. Which is not to say that he didn't offer himself. Repeatedly. But I never wanted Draco Malfoy, whether you were there or not. It was only you."

Harry was unable to continue looking at Severus. When he thought about what they'd lost, what Draco Malofy had caused them to lose, the time they'd not had together as a result of the man's machinations and his own cowardice, he just wanted to cry. "It was only you for me as well," he heard himself confessing in a whisper. "Always."

Severus stepped closer to the young man, wanting nothing more than to take him in his arms and soothe away the distress that had appeared on the dear features where just moments ago he'd seen pride and pleasure in his work. When Harry looked up at him, emotion welling in his eyes, Severus couldn't stop himself – he reached out and stroked a cheek with one finger. He expected Harry to slap his hand or at least to pull away, but Harry only turned into the contact and closed his eyes.

Severus caressed the cheek for a moment before hooking a finger under the chin and raising Harry's face. Once Harry opened his eyes, Severus bent slowly toward him, to give Harry time to object. When he did not, Severus leant in further and pressed his lips to Harry's. The kiss was at once familiar and new, and it only took Harry a moment to return it.

"It's like we never stopped," Harry whispered when they pulled apart.

Severus pulled Harry close and wrapped his long arms around the young man he'd never stopped loving. Was it too much to hope that they could somehow salvage what someone else had torn asunder? "I never stopped," he said into Harry's ear. "Never once."

Harry looked up at him. "Me either. It's been you. For all my life, it's been you. Would you . . . would you like to go back to my place?" He seemed to reconsider and began to backpedal, not physically so much as mentally, sure that he was reading Severus' interest wrong. "Maybe you have to get back. You said you came here with a group, maybe you . . ."

"Harry," Severus interrupted him. "I would like to accompany you back to your flat. I have no obligations this evening. If that is what you want."

Harry took Severus by the hand and led him toward the door.

**##########**

Once back in the apartment, Harry turned to Severus and kissed him again. Severus could feel a hardness pressing against his leg – Harry was eager. But he wouldn't be doing the young man any favors by taking advantage of him.

"Harry, I want you to be sure this is what you want."

Harry snuggled in under Severus' chin. "What I want," he said fervently, "is to close my eyes and take us back in time, to the night after I took my Potions NEWT. I'm coming down to the dungeons, down to you, because we've been so good, and we've waited so long to be together. I've been looking forward to your teaching me everything there is to know about loving another man. I think that you've been looking forward to it, too."

"Mmmm," Severus said, closing his eyes and resting his chin on Harry's head, losing himself in the scenario Harry was creating. "I've thought of very little else for the last two weeks."

"Good," Harry said, satisfied. "I've come to your quarters. You lead me into your bedroom. I'm so excited I can hardly walk."

"Come, Harry," Severus said, taking Harry's hand and wincing at the double entendre.

He led Harry through the kitchen, because it was the only other direction in which to go, and found the bedroom easily – it and the bathroom were the only rooms beyond. The room was large and thankfully the bed looked more than adequate for two men. Severus stopped them short of it and pulled Harry close again.

After several intoxicating kisses, Harry rested his forehead on Severus' chest. "I'm so close," he gasped. "Can you . . . can we . . .?"

"Let's get undressed, shall we?" Severus suggested. "May I . . .?"

Harry nodded, and Severus began the simple process of removing Harry's clothing – t-shirt, cargo shorts and pants. He hadn't even been wearing socks in recognition of the heat – he'd had on some type of sandals that he'd left beside the door. When the boy stood naked before him, shivering slightly from nerves, he couldn't help but stare. Harry was slight but well-muscled through the chest, his abdomen flat, his proud cock jutting out at a right angle from his body. It twitched when Severus looked at it, and he couldn't help but run a finger down the length and over the tip. Harry gasped and jutted his hips forward, seeking more.

"You now!" Harry begged. "Or I'm going to do this all by myself, all over your clothes!"

The blood in Severus' veins quickened its pace on its way south. "I do believe I'd like that," he growled. "In fact, it might make things easier. May I?" he asked, gesturing toward Harry's groin.

Harry hadn't wanted to do this standing up, but he was so aroused. And the way that Severus was looking at him wasn't helping, like the thought of making Harry come like this was enough to make him orgasm as well. He felt overwhelmed by his desire, hardly able to speak or reason or breathe.

"Please," he said.

Severus wrapped one arm around the boy's shoulders and one hand around that turgid cock. It was hot and needy in his hand, and he cast a spell to provide lubrication, then began to stroke, hard, fast strokes, and he'd barely begun before Harry was spurting his release. His body sagged, and he would have fallen to the floor had Severus not caught him and propped him up.

"To the bed," Severus suggested, and he half-dragged, half-carried the lifeless man to the bed.

Harry lay there and looked as though he might not move again for a long time. Couldn't have that.

"Oh, Harry."

Languid green eyes half-opened slowly, blinked closed, and then opened again. Severus couldn't help but smile with affection.

"I'm going to undress now," he informed the boy.

The green eyes opened a little wider now, interested despite his lassitude.

Severus undressed slowly. He knew he was less than lovely, but Harry seemed to appreciate the show, if the perking up of his just-sated cock was anything to go by. When he had completely disrobed, he crawled onto the bed, lay down beside Harry, and took him into his arms.

Harry snuggled into the crook of Severus' arm for a moment before his head popped up. "Sorry I was so terribly quick before," he said, blushing cutely. "I know the idea is to make it last."

"That was your first orgasm at another's hand I'd wager?"

The blush got deeper. "Yes."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. This is all new and exciting for you. And the fact that you have come once already will make you able to last longer the next time."

"The next time?" Harry squeaked.

"Of course, the next time. You didn't think we were through, did you?"

"Well, no, because you haven't . . ." he gestured vaguely at Severus' nether regions. "But I didn't know that I'd get another go."

Severus couldn't help it – he laughed at the boy's naivete. "Oh, Harry. You can have as many 'go's' as I can coax you into."

Harry smiled. "So what do we do now?"

"How about we start with this?" Severus leaned down to kiss Harry, a kiss that went on and on, until both men were panting and rubbing against one another.

"Tell me what you want now, Harry," Severus commanded.

"I want it all," Harry said. "I want . . . I want you in me."

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded.

"How close are you?"

"Pretty close," Harry confessed, hoping he wouldn't embarrass himself again.

"Then let's get this show on the road," Severus suggested. "I must prepare you. Have you any lubricant?"

"Bedside table," Harry said, immediately getting nervous about what they were about to do.

Severus retrieved the tube of lubricant. "Hands and knees, I think," he suggested, putting a hand to Harry's hip and encouraging him to roll over. Harry got into position readily enough, but he could feel his face burning. He felt so exposed, with his arse in the air, unable to see Severus behind him. He drew in a quick breath when he felt a puddle of lubricant being squeezed out onto his lower back.

"Cold?" Severus asked sympathetically.

"Mmm," Harry said.

"It won't be for long." Severus dragged one long finger through the lube and down the crack of Harry's arse, all the way down to his balls. Harry gasped again, for an entirely different reason, and pushed back toward Severus.

"You like that?"

"Mmmmmm," Harry groaned as Severus did it again, stopping this time to trace circles around his flexing hole. Harry felt the pressure as the finger breached him, slowly but inexorably, until the finger was completely inside him. Severus stopped with his finger buried, letting Harry become accustomed to the feeling.

"I'm going to move now," Severus told him, and backed the words up by withdrawing the finger slowly, then pushing it back in again, just as slowly. "You're so tight!" Severus said, reaching down to squeeze the base of his own cock, which felt ready to explode at any moment.

Back and forth, in and out, until Harry felt sufficiently loosened to add another finger. "Now another one," Severus said encouragingly.

The stretch this time was less than pleasant, and Severus could feel Harry tensing up. "Shhhh. We'll take this slow," he whispered. "You'll be more than ready for me when the time comes. Just relax." To help with this, Severus reached beneath Harry to fondle his wilting cock. Caressing in time with the fingers' movement into his arse helped Harry focus less on the burn and more on that incredible hand bringing him quickly back to full hardness.

"Hmmmm. More," Harry requested.

"Patience, pet. I'll not hurt you."

By the time Severus had loosened Harry up so that his three fingers were plunging in and out and wringing little noises of pleasure out of him, Harry had never wanted anything more than he wanted Severus to drive his beautiful cock home, and he'd been begging for it shamelessly for a while before Severus thought he was actually ready for it.

Finally, Severus got to his knees behind Harry. Still frigging him with one hand, he lubed up his own cock with the other. In one quick motion, he withdrew the fingers and replaced them with sweet relief.

"Ohhhh," he groaned as he sank up to the hilt in that incredible virginal tightness. "You are so . . . I don't think this is going to take long." Fighting his own baser instincts, Severus stilled inside Harry. He wouldn't hurt the boy by losing control like his blood was calling out for him to do. "Can you feel it, Harry? Can you feel my cock buried inside you, as far as it can go?"

"Yes!" Harry said, his own hand now playing with his weeping prick. "I feel so full!"

"Is there any pain?"

"A little," Harry admitted. "But I want you to move."

Severus did, just a little. "Can you feel my balls touching you, Harry?" He moved again, withdrawing only enough so that when he pushed back in, his sack brushed against Harry's thigh.

"Oh yes!" Harry groaned. He reached down and gripped his own balls, which were high and tight and ready to have this over with. He wanted to feel Severus' balls, too, so he widened his knees further and stuck a hand back. By stretching, he could just feel Severus' furry balls behind his own, and for some reason, this turned him on even more than having the man's cock stuffed up his arse. "More! Faster!"

Severus couldn't help but comply with the order – his own control had snapped at the feel of tentative fingers brushing against the wrinkled skin of his taut balls. He drew all the way out and pushed all the way back in, trying to be as gentle as possible, though he was rapidly losing the ability to control his motions. When he heard Harry mutter, "Fuck!" below him and felt the sphincter holding him tighten in spasm with Harry's orgasm, he couldn't reign himself in any longer, and he quickened his pace until he was pounding into the young man below him. It didn't take long before he, too, was spurting his seed. The orgasm seemed to last forever, and it left him wrung out and collapsed over Harry's back.

It was a long while before Severus got his breath back and with it, his sanity. He finally realized that he was draped bonelessly over Harry's back, and that the young man was still on his hands and knees, holding both of them up, and he began the process of carefully pulling himself from inside that incredibly tight tunnel. He cast a cleaning spell on Harry and then on the sheets, before he allowed himself to collapse to the bed beside Harry.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Harry looked at him through big green eyes gone soft with repletion. "Mmmmm," he said, closing his eyes in memory of the sensations that moments before had ripped through his body. "Never better."

"You may be sore tomorrow," Severus said. "I have a potion back in my hotel room that will assist you. I can retrieve it now, if you like . . ."

"Severus. Shush," Harry ordered, snuggling close to Severus, looking as though he was going to sleep in the next several seconds. "Worry about it later. Tomorrow. Next week. Sleep now."

Severus allowed himself to be prodded into an appropriate pillow, then fell asleep with Harry Potter in his arms.

**##########**

Harry awoke the following morning slowly, as was his habit, waiting until he was almost fully awake to open his eyes. He'd known immediately that he wasn't alone, and he was terribly afraid his dream would end the moment he opened his eyes. He did so slowly, and a smile crept over his face when he saw that Severus Snape still lay beside him. Severus was still asleep, and Harry resolved not to move, not to risk waking the man, so that he could keep him here as long as possible.

It was only minutes later, though, when Severus' eyes opened, blinking once, then once again, before opening fully and permanently and looking back at Harry. "Good morning," he said, his voice gruff from sleep.

"Morning," Harry responded. "Did you sleep well?"

Severus stretched a bit before answering, "I did. You?"

"Hmm. Like a baby."

An awkward silence settled between them. Harry was unsure what to do next. He'd never had a one-night stand and was unsure of the protocol. Should he offer Severus breakfast? Should he ask if he'd like another go, as Harry had woken with a stiffie he'd be more than willing to put to use? Would Severus just get up and go, never to be seen again? Harry very badly didn't want that to happen.

Finally, Severus spoke. "Well, I really should be getting back. I did travel here with a group. One presumes they will remark on my absence at some point and begin to concern themselves with my whereabouts."

"Do you have to go?" Harry asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "I was hoping . . . I really don't . . . I'd like it if . . . I'm sorry. I don't know how to do this."

"Fear not," Severus soothed him, reaching out a hand to stroke Harry's cheek. "I, too, would prefer not to run away. I find myself wishing I could spend some time with you. But I do have responsibilities. You, too, I assume must go in to work some time today?"

"The beauty of being self-employed is that I get to decide when I want a little holiday. I . . . will I ever see you again, Severus?"

Severus pulled Harry closer, so that the young man was once more snuggling in his embrace. "I don't really do one-offs, Harry. When I saw you two days ago, I realized just how much I'd missed you, how much I wanted another chance with you. I can only speak for myself, however. You will have to inform me if you want something more than last night."

"Oh, I do," Harry assured him. "But I don't know how we make this work. I'm here, and you're all the way back in London. That's a pretty long-distance relationship."

"Is there no chance that you will ever return home?"

"This is home now. I can't imagine what would happen if I went back and ran into Draco Malfoy. I'd likely end up in Azkaban just for _thinking_ about what I'd do to him. But I can't just let this go."

"I do not want that either."

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"Well, we really need to talk, I think, and spend some time together, to find out if we're still compatible. I have a vacation planned for next week. It's something I do every year. I have this camp up in Maine. It was given to me by the same man who gave me the business. It's a beautiful, secluded little spot, accessible only by boat. But don't worry, it's got all the amenities – electricity, indoor plumbing, running water. Internet even. There's a couple that stays there in exchange for taking care of the place for me and clearing out for two weeks every summer when I go up. If you'd like, you could go with me. We could get to know each other again, see where this thing might go. Once we establish whether we're still interested, we can try to work out the logistics."

"That sounds intriguing. Just you and me, two weeks alone in the wilderness."

"Well, it won't be _just _you and me. Hermione and Nathan always come."

"Nathan?"

"Hermione's son. He's five."

"He is not Mr. Weasley's son?" Severus asked, though he was quite sure he knew the answer. He'd been at Hogwarts still when the news that Weasley and Granger had split up had made the rounds. Strange that he hadn't heard about Granger's child, but he'd been gone from Hogwarts five years ago, and he'd lost touch with many of his former students then.

"No. She spent a night with a Muggle when she'd been out drinking with friends. Got pregnant. Never really knew who the bloke was to inform him that she was pregnant. So she had Nathan and has been raising him herself. She's an awesome mother."

"What happened to her and Weasley? Everyone thought they were destined to be together."

"Ron's reaction to me . . . being gay disturbed her. She'd thought it was the shock, you know, that day I told them about you, but he just never got over it. Turns out he was seriously homophobic. She ended their relationship six months after I left."

Severus was quiet, thinking things through, long enough that Harry began to get nervous.

"I'm sorry. Is that too much? Was I presuming too much? Just forget I said anything. I'm an idiot."

Severus shut Harry up by kissing him. "Hush, Harry. I was merely thinking about how best to accomplish this. I have not taken a holiday since I began my employment, so I can't think that anyone would object. The group I am traveling with is due to leave New York the day after tomorrow. I am mulling over in my mind ways in which I might remain behind. It makes little sense to leave in two days if I am to return shortly thereafter."

"You mean it?" Harry asked, hope shining through his eyes. "You want to stay?"

Severus took Harry's face in both hands. "I'm not sure I could leave if I tried." He kissed Harry once, briefly. "I have you back. I cannot imagine leaving you now for any length of time. Though I must make an appearance today at the conference, if only to let the others know of my change in plans."

Harry felt like crying he was so happy. He moved closer to Severus, burying his face in the man's neck and gasped at the ache in his bum with the movement.

"I will go back to my hotel now," Severus said softly, "and I will speak with my colleagues, and I will return with a salve that will help."

Harry kissed the chest beneath his cheek. "Hurry back," he requested. "I'll miss you."

"I will return within the hour," Severus promised. "And when I do, we will begin the process of laying the groundwork for the rest of our lives."

The end

So there it is – a happy ending. I just can't do sad or tragic, not at the end. Thanks again for reading!


End file.
